Trapped in History
by Rhia Poisson
Summary: Zoe's been trapped hundreds of years in the past, in Roman Britain to be specific. Taken in by a village woman, forced to learn Latin and working in the Sarmatian building, Zoe's life has taken an unexpected turn. How would a 21st century girl manage?
1. Zoe Warbeck

**1. Zoe Warbeck**

This was great. Just great. Perfect, as a matter of fact. She, Zoe Warbeck, was stuck in the middle of nowhere. And not just in the middle of nowhere, she had a sprained ankle. And it bloody hurt. So she was literally stuck, in the middle of nowhere, but that wasn't all; it was raining. Hard. So hard that, even cowered underneath a tree (which, yes, is against everything her grade two teacher told her, but she really didn't care) she was getting soaked.

'Fuck.' Zoe spat out, shivering. She huddled into a smaller ball and looked around. It was hard to see much past the rain, but maybe her friends would realize she was stuck out here. Maybe. If they hadn't gotten into the vodka already. And if they did figure out she was gone, maybe Mike could come around in his jeep and get her. If she trusted him to drive her home-his driving was bad without the addition of alcohol.

Why had she agreed to this in the first place? Oh yeah, that's right. It had sounded like a bit of fun. Go out to Susan's place for the week, get away from it all. With enough alcohol and good company, it'll be great, yeah?

But she'd been dragged out on _nature walks_. She hated the outdoors. Really, _really_ hated the outdoors. Which was, actually, probably why Suze'd dragged her out of the house in the first place.

'It's not healthy to be so pale!' Suze had been tugging on her arm. 'Put the book down and make your way quietly to the exit. Or not so quietly,' she'd continued after plucking the novel from Zoe's hands and ignoring her squawking. 'But you are coming walking with us. To the river at least.'

So she'd dutifully put on her shoes, wondering how on earth she'd ended up with friends so outdoorsy. A few kilometres later she wondered the same thing, just with extra puffing.

How had she, chubby, pale little Zoe, become friends with these strong athletes? They were so energetic. And tanned. And _fit_. They just kept going. Simon had even carried her when they got bored of listening to her complaining about bugs, being out of breath or that she could be back in the house with a good book.

She was riding on Simon's back when they reached the river, and she was feeling incredibly embarrassed about being so unfit, but it had been worth it. Seriously. It was beautiful. Like a piece of faerie land in modern Britain. Mike had laughed and ruffled her hair. 'Knew you'd like it here! You and your fantasy obsession.'

She'd spent most of the day there. Her friends had cavorted in the shallows, splashing each other and Brittany had even gone skinny-dipping. But then, there wasn't a guy there who hadn't seen all of Brit and she'd never exactly made a secret of it, either. Her boyfriend wasn't too happy, though. Zoe'd stayed well away. It was summer in England, but that didn't mean the rivers weren't bloody freezing.

They sent Simon, Brit's boyfriend, and Andy back for lunch and they came back with caveman food, as Brit called it. Meat, meat and more meat. And these guys were two of the most promising young rowers in the country.

'Chicken, cold lamb and ham does not a lunch make. Particularly when I'm a vegetarian!' Suze had whacked them over the head while Zoe laughed and munched on a chicken leg.

Later, after the guys had gone to get 'real' food for Suze and Brit (who were both on totally unnecessary diets), Zoe had started humming to herself while the girls were having a water fight. The guys had got back and Simon, who was annoyingly good at everything he did, started to regale them with songs of his choice. Usually corny 80's rock 'classics'. He only shut up when Andy and Suze had crept up on him with a shirt dripping with water and dumped it over him.

It had been one of those fantastically lazy days, where you're never bored, but not necessarily doing anything. They'd spent a good hour at least lying in a huge pile-limbs everywhere. Sprawled all over each other, they'd talked about everything from their uni courses, whether high waisted jeans looked hideous to Mike's insane theory that Paris Hilton is actually a CIA agent in a _very_ good disguise to Zoe's plans to travel to France or Iraq to become fluent in French and Arabic, and they all poked fun at her desire to learn Latin, of all languages.

Then the weather had started to turn, and her friends had decided, quite impulsively, on a race back to the house. Last one there (Zoe excluded) got cleaning duties. It wasn't far-if you were national-class football players or star rowers like they were. Zoe wondered again as her friends dashed off, how exactly had she ended up with friends like these.

'We'll see you back at home soon!' Suze had yelled, waving back at her as Zoe had tried to hurry along after them. 'Take your time, babe.'

'If I'm not back in an hour send Andy with the jeep, I don't want Mike driving!' Zoe yelled after them, she remembered shaking her head and walking backwards to catch a last glimpse of the river. And she also remembered how utterly stupid she'd felt after tripping up. And how she'd not been paying attention to where she was going and hurting her ankle.

So. That's how she got stuck in the rain, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark without her friends actually knowing where she was. They were probably passing round the vodka by now. And maybe Suze and Simon had cooperated for long enough to get dinner ready.

And, to make things even better, she detected a thunderstorm. Actually, more than detected. The rain came down even harder and the wind _really_ started to blow. And lightning.

'Just. Fucking. Brilliant.' Zoe mumbled. She stood, somewhat shakily and tested the weight on her ankle. Not great, but she could walk. And it wasn't _that_ far to the house, surely. Her friends had _run_ between the house and the river before, and she was a fair way from the river.

Because the lightening was getting closer and Zoe had an aversion to lightening. As in, she didn't want to get hit by it. And sitting under a tall tree in a lightning storm is probably not a smart thing to do. And Zoe had always believed she was a smart person.

So, just when she'd decided she'd make as much of a dash as she could for the far-off safety of the house, there was a flash, brighter than the others. So bright, that everything turned white for an instant.

'Shit.' Zoe gasped in grudging admiration. 'Fucking big lighting strike.' She shook her hair out of her face and kept hobbling on as best she could. She was starting to get cold and she was looking forwards to a nice hot shower and an even hotter dinner.

xxx

A/N: Yeah, I know, nobody's going to read this, but I'll put it here anyway. I know it's a terrible cliché, but I wanted to try it. I'm trying to keep my character, Zoe, from becoming a Mary Sue, although the story invites one in the first place. If she seems to be descending into the realms of Sue-ishness, please warn me.

I'll update when I can, but it's probably going to be a little irregular while I get the direction I want this to go in sorted out.

Lastly, any form of review is loved and treasured, but concrit is particularly appreciated. Thanks.

Disclaimer: The version of King Arthur I'm using does not belong to me and I'm making no money out of this. This is fan-work only.


	2. Extreme Historical Reenactment

**2. Historical Re-enactment Taken to Extremes**

'Bloody hell.' Zoe puffed. 'Where the fuck is the house?' She was still dripping wet, but the rain had eased up a little. Her ankle hurt like all hell, but it was holding her weight. There was less wind, and the thunderstorm had moved on. But now she was tired. She'd been walking for _ages_ and her ankle was _painful_.

'Argh!' Zoe screamed in frustration. 'Andy! Where are you and the jeep? If you pick me up now I promise I'll bake you a chocolate cake! Promise!'

No answer. And then Zoe realized that she hadn't seen the road either. And this was just brilliant. She was cold, wet, had an ankle that was probably swollen, it was getting dark quite quickly and, best of all, she was _lost_.

Zoe looked around for familiar-looking trees and landmarks. Where was the one that had had its limbs chopped off? The rock that Andy had said was shaped like an enormous penis was gone, too. She hadn't seen it while she was walking either. She'd had a snicker with Simon about it while Brittany had whacked Andy over the head for his 'immaturity' and 'phallic obsession'.

'When you're lost what do you do?' Zoe wiped her hair out of her face. It was getting long again, she noticed absently. 'Stay in one place, loser,' she muttered.

Except one place for her was currently in the middle of nowhere. And it was still raining. Jeez, she was a whiny bitch at the moment.

She crouched down. It hurt her ankle a bit, but she was unwilling to sit and get her butt thoroughly soaked. She was wet, yes, but she didn't want to be drenched. There was a difference, however small it might be. And she waited.

For a while she didn't hear anything except the rain. Even a bird would be great to hear, but they were _sensible_ and had decided that they wanted to be dry. Then, gradually, she started to hear something else. No idea what it was, but it sounded big. And it jingled. Zoe briefly entertained thoughts of Santa Claus coming to rescue her, but it was mid-July and she didn't believe in Santa anyway.

No lights came into sight, so it wasn't Andy, or even Mike with the jeep to rescue her. Sounded like horses, actually. But what would horses be doing out here? Why would they jingle? And why would somebody, or many people, decide to go riding in this weather? Honestly, some people were insane.

It was horses. About ten horses, Zoe tried to count them, but it really didn't matter. They were her ticket out of here. Hopefully they could either take her back to her friends (her preferred option) or point her in the right direction.

'Oi! Hey! Over here!' Zoe stood up shakily, waving her arms in the air. She nearly whooped for joy when they turned in her direction. She was going to get warm and dry and fed and she'd never be dragged on another 'nature walk' again. Even to the river. Even if it was so pretty.

But as the riders got closer she noticed a few things were kind of…off. Some people really were insane. They were wearing _armour_. It looked seriously uncomfortable in this kind of weather. Not to mention how rare it was to see somebody in armour outside a movie anyway. They looked to be carrying weapons as archaic as their armour. Swords, bows, daggers, axes and shields adorned these men. But their weapons weren't the pretty kind, and neither was their armour. The shields were battered and their armour didn't shine like modern suits did. They looked…used. Zoe was seriously hoping that they were seriously into historical re-enactment; otherwise she was in deep shit.

But these guys didn't look the type. As they got closer she saw their faces. And they were dirty. Either this was really _good_ historical re-enactment or she was going crazy. Because why else would she suddenly find herself in the presence of men riding horses, wearing armour and covered in dirt and…was that blood?

They stopped their horses a little distance away, and she saw that a couple of them had their bows pointed towards her, an arrow in the string. 'Please don't shoot me!' Zoe raised her hands, hoping that they were just playing at being knights, or maybe from a movie set, because she really didn't want to be shot.

One of the men, a rather attractive man with tight black curls and a red cape barked something out at her.

'Sorry, I didn't hear you.' Zoe said, shifting her weight off her swollen ankle. Shit, she hoped she didn't get them angry with her.

The man said it again. But he wasn't saying anything in English. He seemed frustrated that she didn't understand and dismounted. On the ground he was actually really _tall_. Well, compared to her anyway.

For a third time he repeated himself, but Zoe shook her head frantically, hand going to touch her crucifix for reassurance. It had belonged to her grandmother and she was never without it. 'Sorry, I didn't understand that. I'm sorry.'

The man grabbed her shoulder in one mailed hand and shook her a little, ignoring her violent flinch. He said something else and Zoe finally figured out what language he was speaking in.

'You're talking in Latin. I'm sorry, I don't speak Latin.' Zoe was leaning as far away from the man as she could, but he was still holding on to her arm. She wanted them to just move on now. She didn't want them to take her anywhere. She looked around for any sign of the jeep coming, but there was none.

The man frowned. Obviously he hadn't understood her. Damn. This was getting even weirder. Not to mention scarier. Even if they were hardcore filming or re-enacting some great battle, why speak in Latin? The only other possible option was that he didn't know English. Maybe one of the others did.

'Please! Does anyone speak English?' She yelled to the others, only to be shaken rather roughly by the man in the red cape.

'I don't understand what you're saying,' Zoe kept repeating as the man tried to talk to her. She was nearly in tears by this time, clutching on to the cross necklace she was wearing.

One of the others yelled something and the man holding her shoulder called back, nodding. He said something to her again, and his tone was apologetic now, rather than aggressive. Zoe had half a second to register this before he dragged her over to the group of horses.

And these guys were scary. Like, really scary. They smelled terrible as well, she noticed, wrinkling her nose. And they were covered in dirt and she had to acknowledge that the red stuff all over them was probably blood due to the smell. She hated blood. Particularly blood that used to be inside someone else.

Red-Cape-Man picked her up, ignoring her protests, and set her down in front of the very smell, very large man with long, blond hair.

'Where are you taking me? Put me down! Leave me alone! Just put me down!' She wriggled and thrashed in an effort to get off the horse, but the man behind her was strong. Like, really strong. Easily strong enough to stop her from getting down.

Red-Cape-Man had mounted his big white horse again. Not exactly a knight in shining armour, but he looked heroic enough, particularly with the look on his face. But he was too nuts to be a real hero, not to mention around five hundred years too late. It was 2008 for God's sake! Who rode around in armour carrying weapons anymore? Let alone smelling like blood.

'Hey, please put me down. Just let me go home, please?' Zoe tried to twist to see the man behind her but he shook her roughly and she saw an axe strapped to his hip. There was blood on it.

Then they were galloping, or at least, riding rather fast and Zoe held onto the man's arm for dear life. She was absolutely terrified. She was being kidnapped by strange men with a lot of blood on them. They were going to kill her.

Zoe looked around at the men riding around her. They all looked tough. They all looked strong. Not to mention they were all _covered in blood_. That could have something to do with it. And one of them, a huge bald guy, had a bandage around his leg.

And of course there was the fact that she didn't know them. She didn't understand them. Zoe started to think about what they wanted _her_ for, and what they could do to her. And she had no idea where they were taking her. None of the landmarks were familiar. Even more worrying was that there was no sign of civilisation anywhere. No roads. No streetlights. No houses. No cars. Where were they taking her?

Zoe started crying. She was tired, cold, wet, her ankle hurt and she was being carried off by crazy men who either believed they were knights or were far too into their historical re-enactment and either way they had blood all over them and a variety of nasty-looking weapons. This was not happening. Maybe she'd hit her head and was hallucinating. That'd be good. Maybe everything after the lightning strike was just a dream. But it smelled too bad, her ankle hurt too much and she didn't wake up when she pinched herself.

She didn't know how long the men rode for. She got thirsty, kind of needed to pee and was absolutely starving, so she guessed it was quite some time. But it was clearly dark once they slowed down. And a little while later they came across a wall. A large, stone wall that stretched as far as Zoe could see.

'Please, just let me down. I won't tell anyone about you. I just want to go home.' Zoe was pleading with the blond man while they rode along the wall.

They got to a set of very large gates. Very large and intimidating gates they were, too. Made out of metal, with spikes pointing out. There were more crazies up on top of the wall and they also spoke Latin. They opened the gates for the nut jobs that were kidnapping her, saluting them like Nazis. But Nazis wouldn't wear a Roman legionary's helmet. And they wouldn't have a red banner with a bronze eagle flying from the top of the gate.

Zoe was taken by the men through the gate, along a cobbled road and to another set of gates. Except this one had writing on the top of it, still more Latin. And inside were legionaries, men with plumed helmets dressed similarly, brats running around completely filthy and in archaic clothes. Women were wearing smock-dresses. The whole place was just wrong. It couldn't be here, in modern Britain. The government would definitely have to do some work on the state of the plumbing here, because it smelled like sewerage. And the roads needed to be paved properly as well.

All through the streets there were no streetlights, no cars, no electric signs or modern appliances. She looked around her for some sneakers, a watch, jeans, anything that would reassure her she was still in Britain. She was out of luck.

Finally, they came to a courtyard where the men stopped the horses. It was small, just big enough for all of them. There were people crowded around the outside. One red-headed woman was screaming at the men and one of them hollered something back. Zoe was handed down to Red-Cape-Man, who smiled somewhat reassuringly at her as he led her away from the muck of the courtyard.

Another man, dressed in a smock-like shirt, brown pants and bulky leather boots came up to them, said something in Latin and handed Red-Cape-Man a scroll, which he unrolled, after saying something in Latin to her. Probably excusing himself or something.

But it was the scroll that made Zoe start to feel really scared. She snatched it out of Red-Cape-Man's hands and saw what she had been afraid of. It was written in Latin, the paper wasn't paper at all, and there was a signature on the bottom. 'Julius Martinus, Centurion.'

'Oh shit!'

Either this was one _hell_ of an historical re-enactment or Zoe was in deep trouble. Aside from the men in armour who had kidnapped her. Zoe touched the crucifix at her neck and hoped it was the former.

xxx

A/N: Ok, she's met the knights now, but she doesn't know it. This was really hard for me to write, because it's such an unbelievable situation for anyone to be in. You've got no idea where you are and these big, scary men in armour come up to you and take you away. And you can't understand them, even better. Anyway, I hope I made as realistic a reaction as possible.

Any concrit, advice or pointing out of typos is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: King Arthur is not mine, as I said the chapter before.


	3. Lessons in Latin and Sign Language

**3. Lessons in Latin and Sign Language**

Red-Cape-Man had gotten quite angry when Zoe had stolen his…parchment? It was parchment, wasn't it? He snatched it back with a loud exclamation, in Latin, again, shaking her roughly.

'Sorry, sorry, sorry.' Zoe felt like she was babbling, but she didn't know what Red-Cape-Man was saying to her, only that he seemed quite upset. He kept snarling at her, but she didn't know what she'd done to deserve this. She felt herself start to cry, but she still babbled out apologies, hoping that the man wouldn't go for the sword he wore at his side.

Suddenly the man stopped, one of his hands on her cheek, the other touching the cross she wore. Why this strange man with a very sharp sword was so interested in her dead grandmother's crucifix she didn't know, and it wasn't in the least comforting. He said something quite serious, Zoe was sure. Pity she couldn't understand it. He was searching her face for something as she tried to stop crying and nodded as if she had understood at least part of what he had said.

A new voice, and a new man came over. He was the most beautiful man Zoe had ever seen; all black curls and dark eyes with a wicked smirk. His rough thumb wiped some of her tears away and she stopped crying immediately. Busy staring at this new stranger, Zoe didn't object when she was handed over to him by Red-Cape-Man. Red-Cape-Man said something to the other one, but he still wasn't speaking in English. She wiped her eyes as best she could, and her nose on her sleeve. It always ran when she cried, and she didn't want to face whatever it was that she was going to face covered in snot.

'Where are you taking me?' She asked, not really expecting an answer. The man looked at her with those gorgeous eyes of his, raised one elegant eyebrow and said something in Latin that sounded like he was talking to an idiot.

Zoe looked down at the floor and frowned. She was intelligent, probably smarter than this too-pretty man. Too-Pretty called to the blond man who had carried Zoe here on his horse and he walked over and took her other arm. Zoe started shaking. Maybe they were going to take her away and kill her now. Or…other things. She really didn't want to think about it, but so many nasty scenarios were running through her head. It wasn't a good time to be smart, or to have read so many novels.

Blondie yelled back at the rest of the men, and a smallish dark-haired man in what appeared to be a skirt answered him. Together with Too-Pretty, he took her through narrow, dimly lit corridors to a small room with a narrow bed and a rough table with a fragile-looking stool. Not that Zoe saw much of this because she'd seen the bed, looked at the two men and started to seriously freak out. She was crying again, and didn't see the look the two men shared over her head. Too-Pretty led her to the bed, but didn't push her down to it like she'd been afraid of. Instead he grabbed her shoulders and brought his face roughly level with hers.

Zoe flinched away and closed her eyes, turning her head away from him. When nothing happened she opened her eyes a tiny bit. And then, when nothing happened again, a bit more, and she turned to face Too-Pretty.

'Somnus,' he said, looking into her eyes and saying it slowly and carefully. 'Somnus.' God he was treating her like an idiot and she wasn't an idiot she just didn't understand what was going on. Where was the light switch? Why were these men wearing swords and where the hell was she?

'Somnus?' Zoe asked, wiping her eyes and trying to stop crying. Familiar sound, maybe it had a similar meaning in English? Or French? Latin was supposed to be related to these languages, damn it. Why didn't she understand a single word? What was she doing here? Why couldn't she just go home?

One of them mimed sleeping at her, hands together and snoring. Sleep? Was he telling her to sleep? 'Sleep?' She pointed at herself, sniffling one last time and Blondie nodded, hitting Too-pretty on the shoulder and they both turned to leave.

'Wait!' She called, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. 'Hey, wait!' Probably not the best idea to question her rather intimidating captors, but she needed water. She was really thirsty and she hoped that they wouldn't get angry with her for stopping them from leaving. And she really hoped they didn't think that she wanted them to stay.

They turned around and shot puzzled looks at each other, but at her beckoning they came back into the room, staying far enough away from her so that she wasn't as scared as when they'd first opened the door.

'I'm thirsty. Water?' She mimed drinking and looked at the two scary men hopefully. She mimed drinking to them again and flinched when Too-Pretty frowned. Note to self, Zoe thought, do not anger scary men wearing swords. Bad things might happen. Not that bad things hadn't already happened-she had been kidnapped by big scary men wearing swords and been taken to who knows where and was probably getting locked in a room for tonight. Hopefully without big scary sword-wearing men, but there was no guarantee of that.

Blondie said something and Zoe caught the word 'aqua' in the middle of it. She thought she'd heard it anyway. And aqua was still water-related in English, so she thought it might actually mean water. She hoped it did.

'Aqua! I'd like aqua!' She knew that it made no sense to them, but she felt better having told them what she wanted. She shrank away from them right after she'd said that, immediately scared she'd overstepped the mark.

Blondie said something to Too-Pretty and got a wave and a brief sentence in reply. Blondie nodded and left. Too-Pretty sat on the table and leant against the wall, groaning when the weight of the armour came off his shoulders. His trousers were made of leather, Zoe noticed.

Too-Pretty looked at her, but she tried not to return his gaze. Those eyes were kind of scary. Very intense. And she still had no idea what these people wanted or where the hell they were and she was beginning to suspect she didn't know when they were either. So the best course of action was to play it safe and try not to piss anyone off too badly. She hoped.

The man said something, but when he tilted his head he sighed. He pointed at himself and said slowly. 'Lancelot.'

Lancelot. The man must be nuts. Or his parents were weird as well, to have named their child Lancelot they'd have to be. And Lancelot had kidnapped her. All right then, Zoe was trapped in a room with a man wearing swords who thought he was called Lancelot and she had no way of getting out. Fucking brilliant.

'Lancelot?' She asked; pointing at him so he was clear what she was referring to. 'Your name is Lancelot?'

'Lancelot.' He pointed at himself, shaking his head. 'Lancelot.'

'Lancelot.' Zoe dutifully repeated.

Lancelot pointed at her and she blinked. He jabbed the finger in her direction again and she flinched a little.

'Zoe,' she said. 'Zoe.'

'Zoe.' Lancelot nodded, as if satisfied. He pointed to the door and said 'Gawain.'

Zoe supposed that that must be Blondie's actual name. Or at least, the one he went by among these crazies. Seriously. Who would call their kid Gawain? Or Lancelot for that matter. Maybe these people just had an obsession with the Knights of the Round Table. That was actually a scary thought given the weapons Lancelot had.

Blondie, or Gawain, or whatever he was called, came back with a cup in one hand and a burning candle in the other. He set the candle down on the table and gave the cup to Zoe. She looked inside and sniffed it. It didn't smell great, but she was really bloody thirsty. That, and she didn't want to make Gawain and Lancelot angry by asking for some real water. She drank it. And it tasted nasty. Like dirt, actually. She hoped to God it wasn't poison, and touched her crucifix necklace again. It had belonged to her grandmother and Zoe found it unexpectedly comforting.

Lancelot said something to Gawain, who smiled at her and nodded. Lancelot took the cup and shoved Gawain out the door. Once they'd both left Zoe heard them rattling the door a few times before leaving. And she was left in the dark with only a candle for light.

'Just fucking brilliant.' Zoe muttered. She tried the door, rattling it a few times. It was locked. She looked near the door for a light switch, but there was none. And that bed was looking really beckoning. She was bloody tired.

Except she was still wet. Zoe kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks, wrinkling her nose at their smell. She spread them out on the floor, hoping they'd dry by tomorrow. Or by whenever the scary men came back to get her. She peeled off her tracksuit pants, glad she had decided to wear them instead of her shorts today, and her t-shirt followed soon after. They, too, were laid out to dry. Her bra and underwear were still damp, but she thought she could deal with that. She really didn't want to sleep naked when the scary men could come back any second. She felt vulnerable enough as it was.

Zoe sat on the table to examine her ankle. It was really swollen with attractive purplish bruising that was yellowish at the edges. Lovely. It'd take a while to get better, and she didn't think she'd be able to put on her shoe in the morning.

She gingerly stepped to the bed, wincing as her unsupported ankle protested a little, and slid under the blankets reluctantly. She was a little afraid that, if she went to sleep, something would happen to her during the night, like the crazy guys coming in and murdering her, but she also hoped that maybe everything would all go away.

The mattress was spiky and smelled a little mouldy. Must be straw. She'd read about straw mattresses in her fantasy books. But they'd never mentioned how uncomfortable they really were, particularly when compared to her lovely, soft bed back home. The blanket was itchy, but it managed to warm her up quite nicely. Soon, she forgot about everything and went to sleep, clutching her crucifix necklace and hoping she'd wake up cold and muddy in a field somewhere to the sound of a jeep horn and her friends yelling at her for worrying them.

xxx

A/N: Well, Zoe's getting somewhere. Slowly, but she's getting there. This was a fun chapter to write, but keeping Zoe's character consistent was a bit of a trial. She kept trying to become a smartass on me, which isn't the kind of person she is at the moment. At the moment she should be too scared of these guys to be a smartass.

Thanks a million to homeric, my lovely, new, very fast and very good beta! I owe you big time.

Disclaimer: King Arthur not mine-don't bother with the lawyers.


	4. Not Going Home

**4. Not Going Home**

Zoe woke up when somebody shook her shoulder lightly. She sprung awake when the person started talking in Latin rather than imploring her to make pancakes.

'Oh, fuck. It's real.' Zoe pinched herself again, to make sure, but all she got from that was another bruise rather than an awakening from what she had hoped to be a dream.

It was Gawain waking her up, and he was looking at her with appreciative eyes. He said something in Latin and smirked. Not as handsome as Lancelot's smirk, but definitely attractive.

Zoe realized to her discomfort that she wasn't wearing very much. Pulling the blanket up to her chest, she shrank away from Gawain. 'Please get out, please! Please!'

Gawain laughed and Zoe felt like she was about to cry. It was humiliating, and she half expected him to rip the blanket away from her and laugh some more. Why else would he have kidnapped her and taken her here? Whatever it was, Zoe was sure his intention couldn't be innocent. Instead he handed her what was probably a dress and gestured to a steaming bowl on the table. He held up five fingers and looked at Zoe, who was still holding the blanket so it covered her chest, stomach and thighs.

Zoe nodded, not looking up until she heard the sound of the door being locked. She slid off the bed and tried to stand, but regretted it when she nearly fell. Her ankle was worse, despite being elevated during the night. She hobbled to the table, looked at her still-damp clothes and struggled into the shapeless, brown dress, but couldn't do the ties up at the back. She swore in frustration and did it up as best she could. Then she turned to the food, carefully sitting on the rickety chair that sat in the corner of the modest room.

It was a bowl of porridge, she supposed. And it smelled nice enough, so Zoe picked up the spoon and ate it quickly. She didn't know how long she had to go before Gawain came back in and she didn't want to annoy her captor. The porridge was a little bland, could definitely have done with some brown sugar and much more milk, but wasn't bad. There weren't any suspiciously crunchy bits in it and it wasn't burned beyond recognition like the time Brittany had tried to make porridge for everyone two days ago.

Oh God, Brittany. Was she out there in this madness somewhere? And Suze and Mike and Andy and Simon? Where were they? Did some other lunatics come and kidnap them, too? Or maybe they hadn't been so lucky. Zoe forced these rather morbid thoughts away. Focus on getting back home, and _then_ she could make sure her friends were okay. And she could get the police to put these men where they belonged-prison or an asylum.

She was halfway through when Gawain popped his head in again. She stood up warily as he entered the room and he pointed to her. Zoe looked down, but she couldn't see anything. Zoe shook her head. He laughed again, and Zoe felt herself tear up. She couldn't deal with this. Where the hell was she? Who the hell was he? Why had they kidnapped her and what did they want to do with her? And could she at least get a shower and a toothbrush?

Gawain grabbed her arm and turned her around. Zoe winced when she was forced to put weight on her ankle. She felt the man do up the ties on the back of her dress with cold but efficient hands. She guessed that was what he'd been pointing to. Then he let her sit down and finish the porridge.

He said something in Latin, but when Zoe shook her head he groaned and grabbed her arm. He said it again, but this time dragged her with him out the door and down more corridors. He handed her to a pair of women, who took her into a room lined with benches and holes. She could guess what they were for from the smell.

The taller woman said something to Zoe and motioned to the holes.

'Why am I here?' Zoe asked them, looking between them. It was probably stupid of her by now to hope that one of them spoke English.

The shook their heads, and the shorter one said something, gesturing to what Zoe guessed were the toilets more forcefully.

'Look, I don't want to have anything to do with you, could I just go home, please?' Zoe asked, limping towards the door.

The taller woman frowned, but didn't say anything, so Zoe hobbled closer to the exit. The smaller one said something sharp, but Zoe shook her head. Universal sign language for 'What the fuck are you talking about', she thought wryly.

'Just stay here, and I promise that when the police come I'll tell them you let me get away, and you won't go to prison.'

The women looked at each other and the smaller one nodded and walked over to grab Zoe's arm just as she was about to limp out the door.

Zoe started struggling. 'Get the fuck off me! I want to go home!' She screamed and thrashed in the grip of the woman, who, despite being shorter than the other woman there, was half a head taller than Zoe and stronger than she looked.

The taller one walked over and slapped her face hard. Zoe gasped in shock and pain, but lashed out at the woman in retaliation. She was shoved off balance and her injured ankle reminded her of its existence as she landed roughly on it.

It was hopeless. Even when the big scary men weren't around, the women were just as bad. Actually, these women had hurt her worse than the men with weapons had. Zoe sniffed, bloody hell she was crying again! She tried to stand, but fell down again. The shorter woman said something and pulled her up and shoved her in the direction of the toilet holes.

Zoe stumbled, catching her balance on the bench. She glared at the woman, who just said something else Zoe couldn't understand and jabbed her finger first at the toilets and then at Zoe. Zoe nodded, still glaring. Fine. She needed to go the toilet anyway.

The women turned their backs and chatted in Latin until Zoe stood up. She looked around for some water, and saw a jug next to the door. She grabbed it and used that to wash her hands. But no toothbrush. The toilets hadn't flushed either and there was no toilet paper. The two women handed her a comb that seemed to be carved from wood and Zoe used it to get the worst of the knots out of her hair. It felt greasy; she hadn't washed it last night. She'd been a little busy being kidnapped.

When the two women got sick of standing around while Zoe struggled with her hair. It wasn't even down to her shoulders, for God's sake! Why was it being such a bother? The taller woman shrugged her shoulders, took the comb from Zoe and led her out to where Gawain was waiting.

The knight grabbed her by the arm again and took her through more corridors. Her ankle hurt like hell and she was trying not to limp. And she was failing dismally. Why couldn't she just stay in bed, preferably with an ice pack. Or get a bandage to support her ankle. She was in bare feet for god's sake! But she wouldn't say any of this to him because he was still bloody scary. The hair and the large knife strapped to his side both intimidated her. More the knife than the hair, actually.

Zoe couldn't have said if these were the same corridors as last night, but they arrived quite suddenly in a brightly lit hall. Zoe blinked to clear her vision, and stopped dead, gasping in surprised awe. In the centre of the room was the most gorgeously carved table. And it was round. Gawain let her go and walked away somewhere, calling out in Latin.

Zoe hobbled to the edge of the table and hesitantly ran her fingers over the edge. She saw that at each place there was a name carved into the wood and she crouched to read. 'Dagonet' and 'Percival' and 'Galahad' and 'Lamorak' among others, each with a little animal carved next to their names.

Oh God. It wasn't real. These guys were just play-acting. There had to be electric lights somewhere. Watches. A 'Made in China' sticker. A heater, jeans, a toothbrush, plumbing, something to prove to her that she was not where she was beginning to think she was.

No fucking way this was King Arthur and his knights of the really fucking big Round Table.

Zoe stood up and looked around for light bulbs, wires, switches and modern clothing. She was ignoring the rather scary man with long blond hair who called himself Gawain standing near door. She was not going to think about what she'd do if this was actually when she thought it was. She was going to get out of here, find somebody's mobile and call Suze and she was going to go home.

Zoe was checking out the wall near the door, leaning on it for support, too close to Gawain to be comfortable, when she was tapped on the shoulder. Red-Cape-Man was standing behind her when she turned around, except he wasn't wearing a red cape anymore but a dark blue shirt instead. He took her hand and led her (why did these men drag her everywhere when she was moving like a peg-leg?) past the table and into a smaller, darker room with a desk piled high with small tablets covered in writing and Too-Pretty standing in the corner.

He gestured to a seat and took the one on the other side of the desk. He said something to Too-Pretty that sounded a little irritable, but Too-Pretty laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

'Zoe.' Too-Pretty said, smiling at her. And it was a beautiful smile.

Zoe felt herself smiling hesitantly back at him, not to mention her heart rate go up. She'd had boyfriends before, of course, what 19 year old hadn't in her time? But none of them were as handsome as this man. Or Red-Cape-Man, for that matter. Or even really hairy Blondie. Why did all the hot guys have to be mental?

The man started talking to her, slowly and calmly. She caught a few words, like 'Britannia' and 'Merlin', but she had no idea what he was saying, really. He looked at her, as if expecting something from her.

Zoe shook her head. 'Pax?' she offered. It was one of the few Latin words she knew. Along with a few phrases such as 'carpe diem' thanks to being forced to study Dead Poet's Society in school a few years ago. Her Literature teacher had loved the film, but Zoe had hated it. You can be as free as you want, just don't be an idiot and forget that there were consequences. Zoe was trying very hard not to forget the possible consequences of pissing off these strange people right now, actually. 'Pax?' She said again.

Red-Cape-Man laughed and shook his head. 'Arthur,' he said, standing up and bowing a little. _Oh bloody hell, more Knights of the Round Table. So not happening. So really not happening._

Zoe stood up, because Arthur was really intimidating standing over her like that. She put all her weight on her healthy ankle as the one she'd sprained was killing her. 'Zoe.' She copied his gesture and Arthur smiled at her. He gestured to her to follow him again, and she tried to. Except he noticed her limping.

Arthur pushed her down on the chair gently and his hands moved towards her ankle. He stopped and looked at her. He said something in a questioning voice that sounded as though he was asking for permission.

Zoe nodded mutely, not exactly sure what he wanted with her ankle. She hoped it wasn't anything too bad. This guy seemed to be in charge and so far nothing too terrible had happened to her. Except for being kidnapped she was fine. More or less. Except for being in a place that hadn't heard of proper hygiene. Or plumbing.

Arthur took her foot in his hands gently and started to gently feel the joint.

Zoe whimpered a little when he poked a particularly painful spot. 'It's not broken,' she reassured him, even though she knew he couldn't understand.

He said something in Latin, sounding relieved, and stood up. Then he picked her up and started carrying her away.

'Where are we going?' she asked hesitantly, holding tightly to his shirt. Wool, she guessed, from the texture.

Arthur said something that sounded a little like 'medicine' and 'remedial', so she guessed she was going to go to the hospital (surely it would be a real hospital, and this farce would end and she could go home for real) and get treatment for her ankle. And a phone and then Mike would come over in the jeep, hung-over and concerned and Suze would be making sure she was all right and she wouldn't be stuck with hot (if insane) men who thought they were knights. She really hoped Suze and Mike and the others were all right and that they weren't caught up in this madness, too.

But when Arthur stopped, it wasn't at a hospital at all. It was at a wooden door that, when opened, revealed a large room with two long rows of beds, with torches flaring and candles lit. Very few of them were actually occupied and there was a slender little old man dressed in a toga flittering between patients here and there.

A loud voice called out 'Arthur' from the back of the room. Arthur moved towards it, still carrying Zoe without much effort. The man in a toga hurried over and started to speak in breathy Latin. His hair was white, his teeth were yellow and his breath was terrible.

Arthur deposited Zoe gently on a bed next to a large, bald man who had a bandage around his right thigh. It didn't look, and certainly didn't smell, clean. Some hospital this was. No sign of modernity here, either.

The little old man grabbed her ankle roughly and Zoe cursed rather loudly.

She heard sniggering, and, turning, saw the bald man grinning and Arthur frowning. Zoe smiled in what she hoped was a placating manner, but the Little Toga Man wrenched her foot unexpectedly.

'Fuck!' Zoe yelled and kicked out at him. That had _hurt_. Little Toga Man said something to Arthur, whose frown had gotten more pronounced. She quickly apologized to Little Toga Man, who was scowling at her, and looked timidly at Arthur and the big man.

Even without their weapons they were scary, particularly since Arthur had kidnapped her and today he had carried her here without any sign of strain. And, despite her barely topping five feet, she wasn't exactly the most petite of people. Yeah, Suze and Brit were the ones on diets, but Zoe was the one who needed them. And Arthur had carried her all the way and he hadn't even gotten winded.

'Pax?' she said again.

Big Baldie over on the bed roared with laughter for some reason, and Arthur shook his head somewhat ruefully and patted her shaking shoulder.

The old man went away, and she glared at his back while he clanked around on a bench with several plants. He came back with a steaming cup of something Zoe couldn't identify. It smelled terrible and there were little floaty things in it. Yummy. The old man gave her a curt order in Latin and when she looked at him, bewildered, he shoved the cup into her hands, repeating his command.

She looked at Arthur, trusting him despite her better judgement, so when he mimed drinking she did. It tasted nasty, quite bitter and she made a face at the smell. Arthur laughed and mimed drinking again, repeating the Latin word. Zoe did as she was told, until all of the nasty stuff was gone.

The little man talked in Latin to Arthur for quite a while, gesturing at her ankle and then at the other man's leg. As they talked, Zoe began to feel sleepy. Obviously whatever was in that nasty drink was sending her to sleep. She started to fight it, cursing under her breath. What if it was poison? What did they want to do to her when she was sleeping? What if –

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, looking into her eyes. He said something in Latin, and Zoe caught the word Lancelot and Gawain had used last night.

'Somnus?' she asked.

Arthur nodded, saying something else, but it was soothing. Zoe closed her eyes. 'I'm not going home, am I?' she asked, not hearing any response because she fell asleep, holding tightly to her crucifix.

xxx

A/N: Yeah, I've gone over a week without posting, sorry for the lack of story. Had a bad week (nasty break up with my now-ex-boyfriend), so the writing wasn't coming easily. Zoe kept getting a little emo and dramatic.

Just one thing about this story-it's not about the knights. It's about Zoe and how she deals with this world. Yes, the knights will eventually be a big part of her life here, but it will take a while. They're slaves to Rome, used to fighting for their lives, they way I see them they'd all be quite bitter, and wouldn't trust random strangers like Zoe immediately. They'll get to trust her, they might even get to like her, and she'll end up quite important to them (if the story keeps going where I want it to) and they'll end up important to her, but it'll be slow and (I hope) more realistic that way.

Thanks a million to homeric-don't know how I'd live without a beta! The story is better for her input!

Disclaimer: King Arthur isn't mine. I just take the pretty men out and play with them sometimes.


	5. This Reality

**5. This Reality**

It took Zoe a long time to understand the world around her. The world of hundreds of years ago. It'd taken her a while to accept that she had literally traveled back in time. It just wasn't possible according to what Zoe believed. Science couldn't explain something like this, therefore it couldn't be right: this had to be some sort of hallucination, some sort of coma or maybe she was just mad.

She'd spent the first week stuck in what was supposed to be a bed because of her ankle, and after that the guards wouldn't let her through the gates. Since she didn't understand Latin, it was pointless to try to argue with them, and their weapons made her nervous. Sharp objects and untrustworthy-looking, possibly insane men didn't go together well in Zoe's life.

As for what had happened-she firmly believed that it could all be explained somehow. Her personal favourites were madness, hallucination or, failing this, some kind of science experiment gone wrong. Because magic did not exist. She could not have magically traveled through time. Magic was not real and neither was the TARDIS, so that option was ruled out. She had no fucking idea how she got here. She decided that if she wasn't mad or hallucinating, then this must be some sort of English Bermuda Triangle. Aliens were more plausible than anything else she could come up with.

But she seemed to be stuck in this strange world. Every day she woke up in the house of a little old lady with the herb obsession instead of her own bed, a hospital or the wet grass where this insanity had started.

She missed her family. Her mom, her dad, her sisters and even her annoying little brother. She missed her dog, Ripper, and even the goldfish. Zoe missed her friends. She constantly thought about Suze, Mike, Andy, Brit, Simon and all the others. What would they have thought when she didn't get back to the house? Would she be officially dead now? How were her family coping with all of this? And worse, what if they were here, too? What if they were all stuck in the past? What if she just included them in her mad vision?

She hadn't spoken to Arthur, Lancelot or Gawain again after those two days when they kidnapped her. When she'd woken up Lancelot and a really tall man, bald like the one in the bed next to hers, were there. They'd been talking, but when she woke up they turned around. They waited until she'd woken up sufficiently, given her the clothes she'd left in the room that morning before the really tall one carried her outside. They had talked to her and must have tried to explain what was happening, but with Zoe's communication skills being what they were they failed dismally.

They'd put her on a horse and led it over to a little old lady's house. She had white hair, more wrinkles than Zoe had ever seen on a woman before and Zoe was apparently to live with her. It took about a week for her ankle to heal fully, during which time the old woman had been very patient with her.

Actually she was just very patient full stop. The little old lady put up with Zoe's inability to speak in a language she recognized, as well as with her initially frequent temper-tantrums. There were days when Zoe refused to believe in anything at all. She would simply not get up from where she had slept, close her eyes and cry. And on those days, when the little old lady disturbed her in any way, Zoe would sit up and yell at her, using the worst language she knew. But the little old lady would wait for her to start crying and wrap a blanket around her, patting her shoulder and murmuring soothingly until Zoe's tears had more or less stopped.

She missed her pets, her friends, her family. She'd think of them, and what they'd be doing and she'd start yelling at the old woman, because the old woman wasn't a friend or her family. Yeah, sure, the old lady had been nice, but seriously, she'd been kidnapped and aliens had abducted her and taken her back in time or whatever. She could not expect to be happy about the situation.

The nice little old lady lived in a shack outside the main town, but still part of it. It was near the Roman fort, but not close enough to see any of the goings-on there. The old lady seemed quite happy to talk at Zoe when Zoe was in her better moods and she pointed to the Roman fort quite a lot. She also talked a lot about Arthur, which was one of the few words Zoe could recognize. And this lady didn't even speak in Latin, but some Celtic-sounding tongue instead. Talking together was impossible, despite Zoe's best efforts on some days and the old lady's never-stinting patience, and they found that communication through mime was possible, if slow and frustrating. Zoe did wonder why the old lady had taken her in, but in trying to mime that they both got incredibly confused and Zoe gave up. It still wasn't a comfort. But the old lady was, particularly when she was humming to herself as she did the work around the house and Zoe attempted to help.

Zoe missed a lot of technology. Like plumbing. The first few weeks with the stinking drop-toilet that everyone used was terrible. The lack of baths or showers made her feel constantly dirty. No electric light or heat. It was much harder to cook food, and cleaning looked like a bitch. She'd never realized how much everyone had to thank the dishwasher, let alone the washing machine for. It was apparently hard work, living out here. And all of it done in very uncomfortable dresses. The old lady had been both fascinated and horrified by her tracksuit pants. She had marveled over the material they were made out of, studying the weave of it carefully when there was enough light. But when Zoe had put them on and walked around in them the old woman had broken into quite rapid speech and thrust a dress in Zoe's face. She had even gone so far as to stand in front of the door until Zoe put the dress on.

And even with all these changes it took a while for Zoe to accept she was really there. While many people would dream of being zapped back into history, Zoe would prefer reading about it from the safety and comfort of her bed back home, thank you very much. It took a brush with death for her to really start to believe she was truly in Medieval England, that she had to live there and that she could possibly die there.

This brush with death, as Zoe somewhat self-pityingly called it, was a bout of severe food poisoning, or some other stomach-based illness. She'd gotten diarrhoea, the worst case she'd ever had and couldn't hold down food for a week or so. The little old lady had carefully fed her watery plant stuff that was possibly supposed to be some sort of tea or soup - Zoe was too sick to work out which. Stomach cramps were a million times worse without any painkillers, she realised. And then there was the vomiting… She couldn't stomach anything before bringing it back up again, especially any milk-based products. The illness had lasted a week or so, Zoe wasn't exactly sure, but it was the single most horrible, painful and disgusting experience of her life to date.

When she didn't feel the urge to run to the hole that passed for the toilet, Zoe thanked the little old lady. While she didn't understand the words, she understood the sentiment and smiled before patting Zoe's shoulder.

About all Zoe could do to communicate was wave her hands and mime. That took a while and Zoe frequently yelled her frustration at the poor old woman, who took it all in stride. She didn't even know the lady's name until about a week later when she thought to ask as best she could. Mostly by pointing at her and making questioning noises, but she was asking. It took a while for the old lady to understand, but Zoe eventually found out she was called Braewyn.

It took a long time for Zoe to learn enough Latin to be able to speak, not to mention the other language Braewyn spoke. She understood most of it, and she knew how to say 'I don't know what you're saying', but learning Latin and what was probably some kind of Celtic language like this was so different to the structured lessons she'd had in French at school and Arabic at university that she had no idea how to go about it. So Zoe still didn't know how to say much, even though she understood most of it. And, because she was learning from what Braewyn said, some areas of her vocabulary were lacking. Such as swearing.

Braewyn didn't swear, no matter how much Zoe yelled at her, or threw her things around. Zoe had been a real bitch, she knew, when she had just moved in. Gradually, though, as she got better, Zoe was able to get her temper under control. Some of the first grammatically correct sentences she'd said to her host had been apologies for the way she'd acted. Except she'd said half of it in Latin, the other half in the Celtic-type tongue. Braewyn had had to tell her the difference while Zoe stared at her feet, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She tried to apologize in other ways as well, not just by speaking to her in her language. To do this, Zoe, while she was living in Braewyn's house, helped the old woman with the work. She got water from a well, but after getting sick from drinking it she refused to let either herself or Braewyn drink it unless it had been boiled. They used more water that way, it took more painful trips from the well and Braewyn scolded her for being stupid (at least, that was what Zoe thought she was saying), but they didn't get ill again. Zoe had no desire to repeat the experience.

Although Zoe had tried to chop wood for the fire they needed for cooking and keeping warm she was too little and too weak to do very much. So she got Braewyn to talk with a man who lived nearby named Byron, and organized a deal through a complex series of miming. He chopped wood for their fire; Zoe would wash and mend his clothes when she washed hers and Braewyn's. It was heavy work, and Zoe's arms ached after hauling wet clothes around and scrubbing them. Her hands were raw, red and wrinkly afterwards. But Zoe gradually got used to it, and it helped when Braewyn showed her how to make a good soap out of lavender and thyme and animal fat. It was rather disgusting to make, but it got the clothes clean.

Braewyn also showed her how to make soap for when the two of them washed and how to make a shampoo out of nettles. It was uncomfortable, but it got the grease out better than anything else.

That was one of the things Zoe hated most about this time. Nobody was properly clean. Braewyn laughed at Zoe for washing herself every two days with water she'd pulled up from the well and boiled, but Zoe still felt disgusting. She really missed showers and toilets and running, clean water. Not to mention a long, hot soak in a proper bath. She'd kill for that. But Zoe wasn't going to die here of some disease she could have prevented with a bit of effort. She was going to find a way to go home, and she was going to go home healthy.

To that end Zoe took charge of cleaning the house as well. For the first week or so she had been disgusted with the conditions. The fire in the middle of the floor made the whole place smoky, there were no windows to get rid of it. Braewyn slept on the ground in a pile of furs that smelled terrible and were infested with bugs. Zoe had refused to sleep near those furs; she'd sulked when she found out that she was expected to sleep on them. What ever happened to proper beds with mattresses and sheets? Instead she slept on the other side of the fire, without any coverings on the dirt floor. It hadn't helped and she'd still been bitten by the fleas that jumped from the animal pelts.

Braewyn had rubbed sage on the bites and made soothing noises when Zoe had screamed about how disgusting it was. Then Zoe had grabbed all of Braewyn's furs and helped Braweyn treat them with a plant called fleabane, which Braewyn mimed would kill the horrible bugs. Watching the dear little old lady mime dying fleas made Zoe laugh and hug her impulsively. The old lady had smiled a rather toothless smile and hugged her back, handing the herb to Zoe, who used it several tiems before beating the dirt out of the furs and washing them again.

There were still a few bugs, but putting a stick smeared with animal fat near the pelts drew them to that rather than to either of the two women. It was a trick Zoe remembered from one of the more realistic fantasy novels she'd read. They threw the stick into the fire the next morning, Zoe getting a kind of malicious pleasure in watching the bugs burn.

Another thing on Zoe's list of 'things to clean' was what passed for a kitchen. Sure, she couldn't do much about the dirt floor, but she could make sure that the food was prepared hygienically. Or, as hygienically as possible. Braewyn did the actual cooking, though, as Zoe was relatively disastrous without a modern stove or oven. Her first effort at making bread here had turned into a burned up, inedible lump. It was better not to talk about Zoe's try at making stew for herself and Braewyn.

There was a vegetable garden out the back that Zoe helped Braewyn tend to. She learned which plants were food, which were medicinal herbs and which were weeds. She'd pulled out quite a few of Braewyn's precious herbs in the first month or so, but she'd made sure that the cupboard where the vegetables were kept was clean. She'd hunted down as many holes as she could find in the cupboard and plugged them with mud mixed with straw, which the man who helped with the wood, Byron, in a combination of that Celtic language and mime, explained would hold against the rats.

She'd put hellebore, which Braewyn had indicated (through a sequence of highly amusing mimed gestures) was rat-poison, in the corners of every shelf, and kept a careful watch on it. Eventually, their house became astonishingly rat-free compared to Byron's, the only other house she entered on a regular basis. Zoe had been astonished at first how many rats were in his house, but then she saw how he kept his food and it all made sense. Despite being particular about draughts, Byron wasn't all that concerned with how he stored his food supplies.

Zoe, however, was. Not only was there the vegetable garden to tend to, but Zoe, once she had a basic grasp of both Latin and the native language, was sent by Braewyn out shopping. They had gone together a few times, while Zoe got used to the atsmophere of the market, the money, who Braewyn bought from and what the two of them needed. Zoe even got used to the armed Roman patrols wandering the market, to a certain extent. The first time she had run into them she had clutched Braewyn's hand and hadn't let go, despite the old woman's attempts to soothe her. As the vendors got to know Zoe and Zoe became more comfortable, the old lady begged off, saying she had things to do during the day, and Zoe was sent out all alone to the market that had grown up around the Roman fort.

She learned how to barter, although she generally didn't get very good bargains due to both her lack of language skills and general uneasiness with the world in general. She came home with things like flour and meat, and, if there was enough money left over, special treats for herself and Braewyn like cheese (which Zoe was very uneasy about) and honey (which Zoe was considerably more comfortable with). All this Zoe carefully stored, making sure not to keep the meat around for longer than necessary. The lack of refrigerators was really annoying, and she hadn't realized how quickly meat went off.

It was three months before Zoe deemed the place as clean as it was likely to get. Her grasp of Latin and what she'd discovered was the native language of the native British people, allowed her to participate in basic conversations now. Simple conversations became easier, and as she practiced, slowly Zoe learnt more and more.

For another two months after that Zoe learned the two languages. Extraordinarily slowly. She was competent with Latin and the native tongue. At least, she'd learned most of the words she needed to know to buy food and clothing and Braewyn and Byron understood her. She had actually started to learn the herbal remedies Braewyn dealt with. It was Braewyn's job, and it earned just enough to support the two of them.

Zoe asked one day why Braewyn had taken her in. Thankfully she was now capable of asking such a question.

'Arthur asked me to,' Braewyn had replied. Apparently it was as simple as that, even with Zoe's temper tantrums and inability to communicate. When Zoe pressed for more details Braewyn reluctantly parted with them.

'You were the last one of a group of Christians traveling from the East, the rest of your group were slaughtered by Woads. Arthur told me that your crucifix is the work of the Easter Empire, and that you had forgotten Latin because of the attack. He did say that your clothes were very strange, and he hadn't seen the like of them before.'

That explained a lot, Zoe thought. It certainly explained why Arthur had paid such attention to her crucifix, and why he had been so insistent on getting her on a horse and out of there. It also explained why he had gone out of his way to make her comfortable-not many refugees would get the same personal attention from the Roman commander, Zoe thought. But she had learned that even if the men he commanded were pagans, Arthur himself was Christian, and extraordinarily kind.

When Zoe had asked more about Arthur and why a request from him could induce an old woman like Braewyn to take in a brat like her, Braewyn had said only that he was a good man, a man who was going to do great things.

'I would like to help in my own small way,' Braewyn had said, and sent Zoe out to weed the herb garden. 'You must prove you are no longer a brat,' the old woman had commanded, despite the twinkling in her eyes.

Zoe's interest in the herbs Braewyn used had started when Braewyn had offered her a tea made of wood betony to help her with her monthly cramps. She'd been moaning about how she missed her painkillers, and pads and tampons and how much she hated using the rags for pads when Braewyn had come up with a steaming clay mug. She'd drunk whatever was inside and it had actually worked. She had to admit to being dubious as to the benefit of some of the cures that Braewyn insisted worked, but she was learning that they were surprisingly effective.

She also realized that Braewyn was somewhat ostracized by the community. When she went to buy meat in the market, which was teeming with Roman patrols on some days, she heard words like 'witch' and 'crone' thrown around.

'Why is a young girl like you living with an old witch? Are you learning witchcraft, too?' a soldier had asked her one day, while she was examining some meat.

'It's not witchcraft. It's just plants,' she'd answered meekly, putting a hand up to the cross she wore at her neck. Men with swords still scared her, despite the frequent patrols in the market. They were tolerable at a distance, but Zoe was incredibly nervous at being in such close proximity to them.

Zoe had also discovered a church here, on one of her trips to the market. It was right in the shadow of the Roman fort, where Arthur and the famous knights lived. It had taken a while for her to get the courage to enter, as there were armed men constantly visiting it, and Braewyn still scoffed whenever she visited, but she found herself there frequently.

Zoe wasn't overly religious; the cross she wore had belonged to her grandmother before her death a few years ago, but Zoe found that it helped her believe that she would go home someday if she was in the church. Maybe it had something to do with the incense that burned there, maybe it was the familiarity of the Bible (a reminder of her Christian education), but she found a connection with her time in the church that she wasn't willing to give up.

She saw Arthur in the Church sometimes, but she never talked to him. Whenever he was here he always prayed with a startling intensity, one that did not invite interruptions. Zoe could respect that. She knew she enjoyed the silence as well. Pity Arthur's subordinates, the knights, couldn't respect that. They'd come in here to retrieve their commander sometimes when Arthur had been praying for too long. She saw the relief in Arthur's face when they came for him, and their need for him, so she didn't begrudge them the noise they created. What she did resent was their camaraderie.

Zoe had no friends here. Her friends were all over a thousand years in the future, or back in the real world. She cried herself to sleep occasionally, missed her friends terribly and her family even more, but she knew she was here unless she could find the way back. But going up to people and asking 'Excuse me, I'm from the future and I took a wrong turn into your time, do you know how I can get back?' was only going to earn her a trip to whatever qualified as the loony bin here.

After what she thought might be four or five months living in Roman Britain, Braewyn suggested that she go and get a proper job. Offended, Zoe asked what was wrong with what she was doing.

'We need more money so we can buy food for winter,' the old lady replied, pushing her white hair behind her ears.

It had been Braewyn's choice to accept Zoe into her house, and now Braewyn demanded that she work for the privilege to stay here? If Braewyn wasn't able to cope with the financial demands of having an extra person, then she should have told Arthur so, and not agreed meekly. Zoe really didn't think she was capable of getting a job. Her language skills weren't good enough for her to carry on a conversation much above basic level. And to impress an employer she needed to be able to speak with relative fluency. Surely Braewyn could understand this?

'You need to meet more people, Zoe,' Braewyn said, sounding irritatingly like Zoe's mother.

But she wasn't Zoe's mother. And she shouldn't even try to fill that role. Zoe's mother was over a thousand years in the future, probably worrying over her insane daughter. Braewyn just wanted Zoe to work so she could have more money and was trying to guilt-trip Zoe into agreeing with her.

'I don't need anybody,' Zoe told Braewyn. 'I'm fine with just you and Byron.'

'Byron has a life of his own, Zoe, and I won't be around forever.'

'Neither will I,' Zoe had snapped. She spent the rest of the day sitting in the church, praying that she would go home. To her real home, with her family, pets and friends. She cried herself to sleep that night, as Braewyn rubbed her back in comfort and forgiveness.

xxx

A/N: This is a really, really long chapter, but I couldn't split it up. It's all about Zoe, and nothing about the knights, really. She needs to get used to where she is before she can start forming any relationships with them. This was much easier to write than the last chapter, I have to say.

To my wonderful beta, homeric, I love you and this story wouldn't be half so good without you pointing out all my stupid mistakes and plot holes. Thanks a million.

To everyone who has put my story on their favourites list, or who has put my story on alert, I hope this lives up to your expectations, and thanks. I never expected so many people would like it this much. To my one reviewer from last chapter-thanks a million! Despite all the times I've been put on alert, I get a special thrill when I find a review in my inbox.

To all those who have read this, thanks for doing so, and please, review if you liked it, or with suggestions. Particularly about Mary-Sueishness, which I am terrified this story might descend into.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, if you sue, you will get nothing.


	6. Jobs and Shirts

**6. Jobs and Shirts**

The next day Zoe found herself persuaded to search for a job in the bustling town around the Roman fort. She'd asked the men who owned the stalls where she bought meat and bread where she could find a job. They both directed her to the tavern. Zoe disregarded their advice and asked around a little more. There had to be better work than in a tavern. From what the other girls at the market said, tavern work was just one step up from whore. And on top of that, there would be brawls there, Zoe was sure. She'd certainly heard enough about bar brawls, even back at home. And here, with the availability of sharp and pointy objects, they'd be a lot worse.

Despite her searching, nobody wanted to hire her. They were mistrustful of 'strangers' as they called her. Apparently her accent marked her as a potential risk, and everyone she talked to pointed her to the tavern.

Eventually, after some persuading from Braewyn, she finally made her way to the tavern. It was a dingy place, within easy walking distance of the Roman fort. Because of this, the tavern had become a popular place for off-duty soldiers and the infamous Sarmatian knights. The tavern was small inside, with only a few torches casting a dim light and it smelled like stale beer, vomit and men.

Excuse me,' Zoe said to a short red-haired woman. She'd said this in the Celtic tongue, because when she'd asked Braewyn she'd learned that most of the locals preferred not to speak Latin. Given the fact that most people were already wary of her, she wanted to make as good an impression on any possible employers that she could.

'Yeah, what is it?' the woman replied without turning around.

'I…wanted to ask if you knew who I would ask about finding work here,' Zoe mumbled. The woman really didn't sound too happy and she would prefer not to anger anyone, if possible.

'Go talk to the owner-in back, past the red curtain, knock before entering. He does all the hiring.' The woman pointed deeper into the tavern, a wet rag dangling from her hand.

'Thank you,' Zoe said to the redhead, taking a few nervous, deep breaths to steady herself before meeting the owner of the tavern. The deep breath was probably a mistake-it reeked of stale beer, sweaty men and scraps of food left to be picked up by rats and dogs. It was the middle of the day, so the only people in the tavern now were a couple of legionaries, more interested in their dice than their surroundings and another girl behind the counter. She had bad acne, Zoe noticed, but a friendly smile.

'Hey there, can I get you anything?'

'I'm looking for the owner, could you point me to him?' Zoe asked.

The friendly smile faded from the girl's face, and a frown sprouted in its place. Zoe had much preferred the smile to the hostile glare she was now receiving. 'Here,' the girl pointed to a gap in the counter. 'Go through. Red curtain, knock before entering.'

'Thank you,' Zoe smiled at the girl, but got a sour grunt in response. She shook her head and walked through.

'Excuse me.' Zoe knocked on the doorframe and pushed aside the dingy, smoke-smelling red curtain that separated the room beyond from the tavern. Inside a man, with a thick, dark beard, streaked with gray sat behind a table. His tunic was stained with food and ale spots and he was busy counting coins.

'What do you want?' The man asked, stopping his work and looking at Zoe. His eyes glittered unpleasantly.

'I am looking for work. I wondered if you were hiring.'

The man looked her up and down. 'I'm the owner, Farren's the name. You'll not work for me, girl. You're foreign, you are, and I don't trust foreigners. Romans,' here the man spat on the floor, 'and the like.'

'But you don't even know me!' Zoe protested. She immediately regretted opening her mouth before she could think her words through when she was grabbed by the arm and shoved out of the room.

'Don't need to know you, I know your kind. No job, no pay, damned foreign girl. Bad enough the Romans, but the Sarmatians as well, and now, whatever the hell you are will come and destroy my tavern. I want no trouble here, and you're likely to cause it.' Farren roughly threw her away, into the redheaded woman from before, before disappearing into the room behind the red curtain.

'Sorry, sorry,' Zoe mumbled, collapsing onto a convenient bench. 'I'm sorry.'

'Not your fault. Stay there till you want to move, I'm taking a break.' The serving girls said kindly. She glanced over at Zoe, who was still rather disturbed. 'Don't feel bad, Farren's got a nasty temper on him at the best of times.' The woman sat down next to her, rubbing her protruding stomach. From the look of it the woman was fairly advanced in her pregnancy, Zoe realised.

'No, no, I am sorry. I should not have talked back like that.'

'You damn well should have,' the woman snapped. 'I would've hit him over the head for what he said back there. Stand up for yourself a little more, girl!'

'I would prefer if I didn't have to fight other people.'

'Bah! When he's saying things like that, he's remembering what the Romans did to his sister and being completely unreasonable. You're not Roman, anyway. Too pale. Where're you from?'

'Some place you've never heard of, further away than you can imagine,' Zoe replied. She'd decided not to tell anyone that she believed she was from the future. If even she wasn't sure if she was mad or not, how could she expect other people to believe her?

'Farther than Sarmatia?' the woman asked, and remained silent for a little while when Zoe nodded. 'I'm Vanora.'

'Zoe.'

'Strange name,' Vanora remarked, scrubbing absently at the edge of the table with her rag.

'Not where I come from,' Zoe said, feeling suddenly very homesick for her crappy job at the local MacDonalds. Despite the creeps, grease and bad pay, it was safe and stable.

'Why did you want to work here, anyway?'

'I heard that the owner was decent, and that there were jobs open here,' Zoe explained.

Vanora snorted. 'Not happening. Go home, Zoe.'

'I need the work, so I had to try,' Zoe explained, 'for Braewyn, I had to try.'

'Do you really need the work? I thought Braewyn was doing pretty well off of what she earned,' Vanora said, scepticism and concern both evident in her tone.

'Winter is coming.'

'Ah.' Vanora didn't say anything for a few seconds and Zoe fidgeted nervously. 'I can see why Farren didn't hire you, and I agree,' she said eventually, flatly.

'Oh.' Zoe nodded and turned to go.

'Hey, hey, don't go yet. Do I sound like I've finished?' Vanora continued as Zoe turned back to face her. 'You're not a tavern girl, but you still need a job. I'll see what I can do for you, yeah?'

'Why are you doing this?' Zoe asked, biting her lip. The woman's offer gave her a rush of hope, but there had to be a catch didn't there? 'I don't understand.'

'I can probably get you a job in the fort, if you want it.' Vanora offered, speaking over Zoe's silent doubts.

'What kind of work?'

'Cooking, cleaning, laundry. Odd jobs. Do you want it, or are you just going to stand there gaping like a fish?'

'Thank you, I will do that.'

'Good. Come back here tomorrow evening, and I'll get him talk to you. He owes my lover a few favours, anyway.' Vanora's smile turned a little smug as she once again rested a hand on her stomach.

'Won't you be busy then?' Zoe asked hesitantly. 'I don't want to be a bother.'

'Farren can spare me for half an hour.' When Vanora saw the bewildered look on Zoe's face, she smiled. 'I've been working here for years, he's not going to fire me because I help you.'

'Why are you doing this for me? I don't know you.' Zoe asked slowly.

'I owe Braewyn. She's saved my babies before, and is to be midwife when this one comes,' Vanora said. 'Now get out, and come back tomorrow, I have work to do.' Vanora shooed Zoe out of the tavern courtyard before the younger girl could voice any protest.

Zoe walked back to Braewyn's house, thinking about the intimidating little woman who had been so nice to her. Her lover must be a powerful man if the commander would listen to him, and she was obviously in love with him. She hoped that whoever Vanora's lover was deserved her. There weren't many people who would be so kind to a complete stranger who was probably mangling their language while asking for help.

'Braewyn,' Zoe called when she got back, opening the door. 'Oh, sorry. I didn't know you had someone here. I'll just-' Her voice faltered when she saw Braewyn prodding at a large, muscular, half-naked man sitting lazily on the table Zoe had prepared food on. Well that was going to be washed very thoroughly before it was used again. But what was he doing here? And why wasn't he wearing a shirt?

'He isn't company, he's a customer and I'd appreciate some help,' Braewyn said in Latin. The old lady didn't look up from the naked male chest she was examining.

Zoe warily approached the half-naked man, very much uneasy in the presence of a man with a blade. He had large dagger at his hip and a small pile of knives was resting on top of his bloodstained shirt. But damn he was built. He looked like he'd be able to use the weapons lying on the ground.

'Zoe, stop staring at him and hand me some thyme, a mortar and pestle and make some willow-bark tea. Go on.' That was said in Braewyn's native language, and Zoe hoped that the stranger didn't understand it.

Zoe moved automatically to get the items requested by the old woman, keeping an eye on the weapons while she worked. Yeah, they were common around here. Didn't mean Zoe was comfortable with them. Particularly not when they came with a large, muscular stranger who was currently semi naked in the place that was almost home to her.

Zoe set the mortar, pestle and thyme on the table next to a pile of bandages. She shot a glance at the man, whose light brown eyes reminded her of a hawk's. His dark hair fell in his face in messy, uneven rattails, and parts of it were braided. He didn't seem to be paying attention to her, his posture hadn't even changed from when she walked in, but she had the uneasy feeling that this man saw everything going on. And could have a knife in her heart in a second if he needed to.

She moved as quickly as she could away from the man and concentrated solely on making the tea. She put more wood on the fire, coughing a little from the smoke, before going to the leather bag that was used as a bucket. She poured a little water into Braewyn's smallest iron pot and put the pot on the hook above the fire. It took a little while to boil, and so Zoe pulled the willow-bark down from where Braewyn stored it. She took a pinch and put it in one of Braewyn's rough cups. She wrapped a rag around her hand and poured the water in carefully.

'It'll take a while to be useful,' Zoe said in Latin, setting it down close to the stranger, close enough to smell the blood covering him, before backing away quickly. She didn't want to get close to him, not even to give him the pain-killing tea.

'Effective, Zoe.' Braewyn murmured, wiping blood-covered hands on a rag.

'Effective,' Zoe repeated in Latin, 'effective.' She always had trouble remembering that. She looked at what Braewyn was working on and gagged. A long gash on the stranger's chest was stitched up and Braewyn was smearing salve on his chest. It did not look pretty. And judging from other scars scattered across the man's chest, it wasn't the first he'd had. He didn't even seem disturbed by the cut. Zoe shuddered and put her hand to her mouth.

'If you're going to be sick, Zoe, please do it outside, away from the garden,' Braewyn said, putting the paste down and wiping her hands again.

Zoe shook her head and went to get some water for Braewyn to wash her hands in and to wash the table with once the stranger had gone. She hated blood. Back at home she'd nearly thrown up when Andy had gotten his leg cut on a wire fence and there had been blood dribbling down his calf. This was not a just cut on a wire, and the coppery stench made Zoe reel.

On top of that, there was the fact that the man was making her very uncomfortable. It wasn't just the pile of weapons on his discarded (and probably bloodstained, Zoe realized) shirt, it was his eyes that were frightening her. No matter where she was she could feel them on her. Watching her. Studying her. It was creepy. Zoe needed to get out.

The well was not far away at all, but Zoe lingered for as long as she could. She didn't want to run into the man when she returned. Any man that calm with that much blood pouring out of him was either a soldier or a murderer, and Zoe wanted nothing to do with either.

Tying the leather bucket to the rope, she lowered it into the well. She hauled it back up, arms protesting a little. She was much stronger now than she had been when she arrived, and it showed. She'd changed a lot because of living centuries in the past. She was a little tanned now, because she'd spent time in the sun, and she was much thinner. Not eating very much and working hard did wonders for the figure. Zoe laughed softly at that thought.

Her hair was longer too, it was well past her shoulders now and she tied it back with a bit of string. Said bit of string wasn't very good at doing its job, and chose now to come loose. Zoe let out an exasperated groan and finished hauling the water up. As much as she wanted to stay away from the house, she didn't want to haul the bucket up for nothing. Holding the water in one hand, she bent down and picked up the string and walked slowly back.

'I'd kill for a decent hair tie,' Zoe muttered in English. It felt strange on her tongue after this much time speaking only Latin and the native British tongue.

Despite Zoe's slow progress, the stranger was still there when she got back. Braewyn was working on his hands, though. They were bloody, too. The room reeked of it.

'Why not go to the doctor?' Braewyn was asking the knight.

'Got it from Romans. The doctor's Roman. I don't want to be-' the stranger finished the sentence with a word Zoe didn't understand.

Braewyn saw Zoe, and repeated the word for her. 'Whipped.' She made miming motions with her hand and Zoe nodded to show her understanding.

'Whipped,' Zoe said in Latin as she poured the water from the leather bucket into another of Braewyn's pots.

She occupied herself with some lavender while Braewyn finished treating the man. Lavender smelled a lot better than blood, and Braewyn always used it to clean with.

'There. What will you do for a shirt? If you don't want to be whipped you can't go back in that.' Braewyn pointed out when the man reached for it.

He didn't answer right away; instead he was hiding knives in various places. He stuck two in his boots, one went on his belt, but there were three he couldn't hide. He looked at them with a frown for a second before pointing a sheathed one at Zoe in a movement so swift she flinched away.

'You, girl.' Zoe was rather distracted by the knife that was pointing at her all of a sudden. Or, she would have been if distracted was code for 'fucking terrified'

Zoe looked at him, and then the knife, and then him again. 'Yes?' she asked softly. It came out as more of a squeak.

'You know the fort?'

'Yes,' Zoe stammered out.

'Put the knife down, please, you're frightening her.' Braewyn cut in, washing her hands again.

The man put his knife down, but this only emphasized the bandages wound around his chest. 'Do you know Gawain?'

'I know who he is.' Zoe remembered the long-haired knight quite vividly. She'd seen him around in the village since their first encounter, and heard some girls gossiping about him in the market. If this stranger was close enough to him to ask a favour, then he was most likely another Sarmatian knight, Zoe thought. She was beginning to see where their reputation for savagery came from.

'Go tell him I need a shirt,' the man commanded. He frowned when Zoe started stammering a protest. 'It's not that hard.'

'It would be easier if Zoe knew your name.' Braewyn remarked from where she was collecting the stained rags.

'Tristan. Tell Gawain and no-one else that Tristan needs a shirt.'

Zoe nodded, too frightened of him to speak, before running out of the cottage. She'd heard girls gossiping about this one in the market, gathering together to discuss the scout in hushed tones. She hadn't known what he looked like further than apparently having the'eyes of a beast', but she had heard that he killed for pleasure and that he obeyed only Arthur. He had apparently been whipped a year ago for disrespecting and assaulting a Roman officer. And he, the one reputed to be one of the most dangerous and frightening knight of them all, was sitting in Braewyn's house, waiting for her to return. Relying on her to get him out of another whipping. Shit.

She was at the gates of the fort when she realized that she had no idea where Gawain, the man with long blond hair she remembered from that terrible night about five months ago, actually was. Unfortunately going back wasn't an option in case the knight grew angry and actually used one of those knives on her. Zoe squared her shoulders, did her best to ignore the knowledge that all the men inside were armed to the teeth, and walked towards the fort.

xxx

A/N: Hey there, sorry it took so long for me to get this out. Again, RL issues. Being in the last year of school sucks, but it'll be over soon. My beta, however, is lovely and I'd like to say thanks to homeric for doing such a good job with this!

So Zoe's met Vanora, but she's not getting a tavern job. She's not cut out to work there. She'd get eaten alive. And there's Tristan for your reading pleasure. And more knights to come next chapter, I promise!

As always, reviews are appreciated. Any advice on Mary-Sueness (or how to avoid it in this story), or on characterization is appreciated.

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own. And, believe me, I'm sad about that.


	7. Help and Thanks

**7. Help and Thanks**

Zoe was in trouble. Not serious trouble; it wasn't life-or-death, but it was more than just a spot of bother. She had to somehow get into the Roman fort, find one specific man and somehow get a shirt for the knight currently sitting in Braewyn's house with all his weapons around him.

That her Latin wasn't exactly great was only one of the problems she faced. The Romans all spoke Latin, but few of them knew much of the native language, and it was the native language Zoe was more comfortable with. She also assumed that Tristan didn't want his business kept quiet. He was getting the shirt to avoid getting whipped, so explaining that he'd hurt himself in a brawl with Romans and needed less bloody clothes to avoid suspicion wasn't exactly sneaky. So that meant she couldn't explain why she was looking for him, which mean that the chance of her being let in was next to zero.

Fucking brilliant.

And Tristan was very scary. He had knives, lots of them, and he wasn't squeamish about being covered in his own blood, or about being injured like he was. And his eyes… Zoe shuddered. When he looked at her, Zoe didn't think he was seeing a person, but something potential dangerous.

This was getting better by the second.

She walked up to the gates of the fort. They were open and two legionaries were standing outside. Dressed immaculately in red and shining silver, clean-shaven with gleaming spears and pristine shields, the contrast to the bloodied man in Braewyn's house was stark.

Walking closer, neither of them looked particularly nice. One of them had a scar that ran down his face, pulling his lips into a permanent snarl. The other one just looked like he'd drunk too much and hadn't shaved properly this morning. She decided to try her luck with that one.

'Excuse me,' Zoe said, carefully pronouncing the Latin words. 'I need to speak to Gawain.'

'Really? And what would this…talk be about, then?' The legionary looked her slowly up and down and licked his lips.

_Probably should have asked the other one_, Zoe thought, feeling uncomfortably exposed as he leered at her. She even looked down to confirm that she was still wearing the brown dress she'd put on that morning, and check that it hadn't suddenly developed a plunging neckline or torn a hole in an inconvenient location. Like where the soldier was staring, for example.

'I can't say,' Zoe answered. She'd told Tristan she wouldn't tell anyone but Gawain, and she wouldn't. She kept her promises. At least, she kept her promises to big, scary, muscular men who were currently sitting half-naked on the table she prepared food on.

'I think I'd like a bit of that kind of talk. Why else would a girl want to talk to a Sarmatian knight? Promise to find me when I get off duty tonight, then I might let you in. What do you say?' The man leaned forwards and reached a hand out towards her. This close, he smelled of stale beer and body odour. Fuck.

'No!' Zoe cried, slapping his hand away and stumbling backwards. 'No.'

'Don't be like that, darling. Come on, you and me. I'll give it to you better than any Sarmatian dog ever could.'

Zoe kept walking back, shaking her head frantically. The guard grinned, licked his lips and grabbed her arm, faster than a snake, in his large, dirty hands. Zoe tried to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and leered down at her.

'Why in such a rush to leave? Don't you want to have some fun?' The man pulled her closer in. So close she could smell him far too clearly, so close she could see the stains on his armour.

'Don't do that, we're on duty. It's things like that that stop you from ever getting some,' the scarred soldier rebuked his comrade, speaking for the first time. He seemed relatively indifferent to the whole thing, bloody selfish bastard. The only thing that was keeping Zoe anywhere near that place was what was waiting for her back at Braewyn's cottage. An angry (shirtless) knight. And his knives.

'I get girls begging to be with me. And I want to hear it from this one. Not very pretty, but I bet I could make her beg.' The legionary, still holding Zoe with one hand, leant his spear against the gate.

She felt her heart beating faster and she was pretty sure she was trembling. Damn. She just had to pick a creep, didn't she?

If I don't do something soon, I'm going to be-Zoe cut that thought off, too scared to even think it.

She yanked her arm out of the man's grip in a sudden, desperate burst of strength, dodged his grasping hands and turned to run away, but ran into a very solid chest instead. She stumbled backwards, only to be caught by a strong hand. A large, strong hand.

Oh crap, Zoe thought.

'Why is this girl running away from you?' It was a familiar voice, one she'd heard before. And when Zoe looked up, it was a familiar face, too. It was Arthur; the handsome man she'd learned was the commander of the most prestigious unit in Britain. The Sarmatian knights. The ones who had kidnapped her and taken her here in the first place. Her day just kept getting better and better.

'No idea, sir. Girl's slightly crazy, sir,' the legionary said, snapping back to attention and collecting his spear and shield.

Arthur looked down at her, releasing her arm when he was sure that she was stable. Zoe hid behind Arthur's broad body. If she kept Arthur, who was perfectly capable of defending himself from creeps, between her and the guard she would be much more comfortable. Even if he was bloody scary and the future King of England, everything she'd heard at the market said he was kind and honourable and wouldn't start grabbing at her like the guard did. He was so trustworthy that even she'd heard of him, and she was from God knows how many years into the future. She did shift around to the opposite side to the dagger he wore at his hip, though.

'She doesn't look crazy, and if I hear you've been harassing women again I will not allow it to go unpunished.' There was steel in that deep voice of his, and Zoe knew that what Arthur said would be treated like a solemn vow.

'Yes, sir.' The legionary nodded his head respectfully.

'What's your name?'

'Gaius Ledipus, serving under Centurion Catiline, sir,' the legionary said, glaring at Zoe as if it was her fault he was a perverted bastard.

'I'll remember that,' Arthur promised, voice as cold and scary as any Zoe had ever heard. 'Why were you trying to get in here?' Arthur asked, his green eyes now turning to Zoe. Taking her arm, he walked her out of earshot of the soldiers.

'I was told to find Gawain.' Zoe answered, taking care to use the right words. She had a tendency to get them mixed up when she was stressed, or even to slip back into English. And to say she was stressed now was a bit of an understatement.

'Told by who?' Arthur asked, apparently taking her as seriously as he would a messenger from Rome.

'By a man called Tristan.' Zoe gambled on Arthur's faith in his knights. Tristan was one of Arthur's men, and had been for several years; Arthur should trust the man by now. If Arthur did, and let Zoe in she'd save herself a lot of effort, and Tristan, who was waiting for new clothes in Braewyn's house, would leave, with all of his weapons and the smell of blood. If she lost, she'd have to find another way to get into the fort. And then she'd have to find Gawain on her own. Or go back to Tristan. Neither option was particularly appealing.

'Tristan sent you to find Gawain?' Arthur's eyebrows rose, but he took her arm again gently. Zoe flinched a little, not comfortable with the strength in his hand, even if he wasn't exerting it.

'Yes sir, he said only Gawain,' Zoe answered softly. Her eyes were drawn to a dagger at his side. Less frightening than the sword he'd worn the last time they'd met. He seemed less scary out of his armour, more like a person than a killer.

Zoe tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down. It didn't work very well. She wasn't a naturally calm person at the best of times, but dealing with a bunch of shit in a time she wasn't even supposed to be in was pushing her past her limits. The grip on her arm wasn't reassuring either. Why was he holding on to her as if she was going to run away?

'Tristan is one of my best knights, and I trust him with my life, but I am puzzled as to why he would send you, a stranger, on an errand for him.'

'I was the only one there,' Zoe replied, tugging her arm out of his hand and edging away from the dagger at his side.

Arthur frowned, and seemed to be thinking hard about something. His eyes looked Zoe up and down, and she had the unnerving feeling that she was being checked for weapons, as well as judged as to reliability. Eventually, Arthur sighed, his posture relaxing a little.

'I'll take you to Gawain if you tell me what Tristan needs.'

'He said only Gawain, sir,' Zoe protested, torn between answering the man and obeying Tristan.

'Girl, Tristan is my knight, we have fought together for almost six years, and he will be with me for ten more after this. I am his commanding officer and if he is in trouble, I need to know.' Arthur's eyes were so intense that Zoe couldn't meet them.

'He needs a shirt. His was covered in blood and he didn't want to be whipped,' Zoe unwilling to look up at Arthur, stared intently at her bare feet instead. She definitely missed shoes. Her feet were incredibly dirty, the nails ragged and the soles rather tough. Shoes were expensive, so it was apparently easier to go without during the warmer seasons.

But even thinking about mundane things like her shoes couldn't distract Zoe properly from the oppressive silence as Arthur once again considered her. She really hoped he was happy with that explanation, because she didn't want to go back to Tristan and say that she couldn't get a shirt. Actually she didn't want to go back to Tristan at all, but if she had to it would be preferable to do so in the way that would make him least angry with her.

'Fine. I'll take you to Gawain. Stay close to me and don't cause any trouble,' Arthur said sternly.

'Yes, sir.' Zoe walked with Arthur through the gates and past some large, stone buildings. There were many Roman legionaries around, all with short swords strapped to their sides, spears in their hands or knives strapped to various locations on their bodies. Zoe at first shrunk closer to Arthur, but flinched away when she was confronted with the dagger swinging by his side.

Zoe thought rather giddily that she must look incredibly stupid. Maybe she was developing a nervous twitch of some kind. She was getting strange looks from the Roman legionaries, and she got as close to Arthur as she could while staying as far away from his dagger as she could. It must have looked strange, but Zoe didn't care. Too much was going on for her to care overly much at how she must appear to others.

Arthur passed by the larger buildings until they came to a smaller one that had a large wooden door carved with strange symbols and horses. He opened the door and led Zoe inside. A door, several corridors and few sharp turns later, they were in what appeared to be a training yard given the activity going on inside it.

'Gawain!' Arthur called. 'You have a visitor.'

The blond man, hair longer than Zoe remembered but definitely cleaner, bounded over. He seemed cheerful, a smile on his face, chest heaving and shirt sticking to him because of sweat, an unsheathed sword in his hand. 'Who is it Arthur? You?' he looked down at Zoe, who was hiding behind Arthur, casting frightened glances at the blade, and back at Arthur.

'She says Tristan sent her for you specifically.' Arthur nodded to Zoe and walked towards the men. Zoe watched him greet a man with dark curls who Zoe thought might be Lancelot, the far too pretty man she remembered very clearly, with a hand on the shoulder.

'Tristan sent you? What for?' Gawain's voice was concerned and he started off down the corridor Arthur had just led Zoe through. Apparently things like this didn't usually happen. 'Hold on a second.' Gawain said before Zoe could even begin talking. 'Galahad!'

Another attractive man (why were there no guys like this in her own time? Zoe thought plaintively) with dark curly hair and the wispy beginnings of a moustache walked over, another sword in his hand. 'Yeah?' He, too, was panting and sweaty and smelled terrible. Zoe was staring between the two men and their weapons, shaking just slightly as the steel seemed to menace her, despite being completely stationary.

'Hold this for me, will you?' Gawain threw the sword at Galahad.

Zoe let out a squeak of alarm, flinching when the blade flew past her face, closing her eyes. She heard Gawain laugh and the other man snicker and opened her eyes cautiously to see them both staring at her. Gawain's grin made Zoe blush. He was incredibly attractive smiling like that, and she'd just made an idiot of herself in front of him. The other man was just as amused by her antics, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by. Zoe made an effort to appear more relaxed, as the two knights went back to ignoring her.

Galahad pointed Gawain's sword at its owner, ignoring another unintentional squeak from Zoe. 'You're just too lazy to clean it yourself,' the man scowled. Zoe couldn't tell if he meant it or not.

Gawain apparently didn't take offence, because he clapped Zoe on the shoulder, making her knees buckle a little and grinned. 'Important business, Galahad. I'll kick your ass another time.'

'In your dreams,' Galahad retorted and walked back to the group of men in the courtyard, taking Gawain's sword with him.

'Now, what did Tristan want me for?'

'He told me to ask you for a shirt,' Zoe replied. It was easier to talk to him now that he wasn't holding a blade, but he was still rather intimidating, and his stench certainly didn't help any.

'A shirt? Why would Tristan need a shirt?' Gawain started walking into the building, impatiently gesturing for Zoe to follow.

'He got into a fight. His shirt was covered in blood.' Zoe hurried to keep up with the man's long legs. Damn her for being so short.

Gawain stopped and grabbed her biceps, looking into her face. 'He's hurt? Where is he?'

'He is at Braewyn's house,' Zoe answered quickly. He may not have a weapon, but Gawain was still scary. Particularly when he was holding on to her arms that hard. Knowing Zoe's skin they'd probably bruise. 'It is a-' Zoe floundered for the word for 'wound' in Latin for a moment. 'It is a cut on his chest. It bled a lot.'

Gawain seemed to accept this and let go, a frown marring his forehead. Zoe took a deep breath to calm herself down before jogging to catch up to Gawain who was marching off down the corridor again. He had pushed open a door and thrown open a chest by the time Zoe had caught up.

'Mind if I come down with you to take it to him?' Gawain asked. The tone of his voice implied that even if she did mind, she wasn't going anywhere without him.

Zoe nodded and Gawain moved to another door, this one led to a room considerably messier and smellier. Gawain stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt, dropping it onto the floor. He, like Tristan, had a very nice body, Zoe noticed. He had lighter skin than Tristan, but he had fewer scars and his muscles were broader. He was very attractive. He was, thankfully, also very oblivious to her scrutiny as he sifted through a pile of clothes, grabbed a shirt and held it up to his face, sniffing. He nodded to himself and pulled it over his body. Zoe averted her eyes, conscious of the heat in her cheeks that reminded her she'd been blushing.

The blond knight grabbed a large knife and strapped it to his waist. Zoe moved to the other side of him, and together they left the fort and walked through the town. It was much easier for Zoe to be in the town than the fort. The number of weapons decreased dramatically, the people were more relaxed and they didn't stare at women the way Zoe's dog back home in the future eyed off any bacon she cooked.

There was a problem, though. The people in the town all seemed to stare at Gawain as he waded through them and by extension they stared at Zoe. It was like being with Brad Pitt or something; he seemed to be their equivalent of a celebrity. Complete with giddy female fans. He seemed oblivious to the attention he attracted, but Zoe wasn't. She blushed every time someone looked at her, sure they must be wondering why he was associating with her. This was only confirmed when after glances at Gawain, and then herself, she saw people turning to each other to whisper.

Zoe tried to hide herself behind Gawain, but somehow managed to stumble over her own feet, falling into the knight. He caught her, more to avoid ending up on the ground himself than through any sense of chivalry, Zoe suspected. She heard some sniggers from around her, but was too embarrassed to look up. She was making an absolute idiot of herself. This had to stop, she had to get away. She sped up the pace of her walking, to get out of the presence of so many staring eyes.

Zoe's relief at entering Braewyn's house was so great she was able to ignore Tristan for a second. Only a second, because when Gawain followed her inside he was standing up from the furs he'd been lounging on and holding out his hand for the shirt.

'How did this happen, Tristan?' Gawain asked, slapping Tristan's chest, earning himself a rather intimidating glare.

'Romans at the tavern. One of them pulled a knife.' Tristan's explanation to Gawain was barely longer than the one he'd given to Braewyn, but Gawain nodded as if he'd given a thorough report. Maybe, knowing him as Gawain undoubtedly did, it made sense. But to Zoe it seemed as if Tristan had gotten into a senseless brawl with Romans for no particular reason and got himself cut up.

Zoe tried to edge away from them and to Braewyn, who was scrubbing the bench rather vigorously with a rag. The smell of blood and lavender mixed in the air and made Zoe almost long for the smell of open sewerage outside.

'Let's get you out of here. Arthur was worried when this girl showed up looking for you.' Gawain nodded his head at Zoe, who pretended to ignore it, choosing to grab another rag.

'He'll live,' Tristan grunted, sliding the last of his knives out of sight. This didn't make Zoe any more comfortable, knowing he had knives all around him made her worried for her own safety. Tristan dug in a purse hanging at his waist and handed a few coins to Braewyn, who didn't even bother counting them.

'Any time you need, I'm here,' the old lady said, smiling her toothless smile at Gawain and Tristan.

Tristan walked out without a word, Gawain thanked the two women and followed him. Zoe shut the door behind them and leaned against it, letting a deep sigh escape her.

'He wanted to know about you,' Braewyn said in her native dialect. She'd returned to scrubbing the table, leaving the coins Tristan had given her lying on an already-cleaned part of it.

'Why?' Zoe asked, pulling a stone from the wall, revealing a decent-sized hole. She extracted a box from it and handed it to Braewyn.

'He wants to know about everything - it's his job.' Braewyn put the coins in the box, closed the lid and shook it a little.

Zoe nodded, and put the box back in the hollow. She threw another log on the fire to get it ready for cooking on and moved into the storeroom to gather vegetables for that night's meal.

'What does he do?' Zoe asked.

'You've heard of him-he's one of Arthur's knights,' Braewyn said, as if talking to a child.

'Yes, but what is he? He's not a normal knight if it's his job to know everything. Knights just need to know how to kill people.' Zoe pulled out the required vegetables from where they were stored and went to check on the hellebore, the rat poison, she kept in the corners.

'Ah. He's the scout.'

Zoe wondered what he'd thought of her, before deciding it was better not to know. With all her cowering she couldn't have made a good impression. With her luck today, he would have probably decided she was absolutely pathetic.

'Must be a difficult job to do,' Zoe murmured, getting to work washing the vegetables. She really didn't want to use the table- Tristan had bled on it for God's sake!

'That reminds me, did you find work anywhere?' Braewyn asked and their night continued as normal, despite the air smelling of lavender and blood.

xxx

A/N: Ok, so this one took a little long to get out. And I would like to point out that it was entirely my fault, because my (brilliant) beta got this back to me several days ago, and I was too busy/lazy to get this up. Sorry! But anyway, here's a chapter full of knights to make up for the lateness.

Any advice, criticism or anything on Zoe, Arthur, Tristan or Gawain (hell, anything) is appreciated. Reviews are brilliant.

On that note, thank you to everyone who has reviewed this fic, and to everyone who has put it on their alert list or favourites. I never thought this fic would be this popular. I'm treating myself because I've now got over 2000 hits for this one fic! Thank you so much for reading, there's lots more to come, I promise!

Disclaimer: King Arthur does not belong to me and neither do the sexy knights.


	8. Jobs, Brawls and Rescues

**8. Jobs, Brawls and Rescues**

The tavern was incredibly busy at night. Zoe had always known this, but being there and walking in was very different from hearing the racket from Braewyn's house.

There were drunken Roman legionaries in their red uniforms, ordinary farmers and tradespeople laughing around their ales and a group of loud men all carrying blades of some sort. Girls threaded their way through the mass with tankards and pitchers of ale or anything else alcoholic, others sitting on laps or draping themselves over appreciative men. Farren, the owner of the tavern, was behind the counter serving a centurion, recognizable because of the helmet at his side.

Zoe spotted Vanora, easy to find despite her height due to her red hair and loud voice.

A Roman soldier, ignoring the fact that she was quite obviously another man's lover (Zoe thought the pregnant belly might have given the man a clue, but apparently the man wasn't that bright) had grabbed her arm and pulled her in close. Zoe didn't hear what he said to her, but she heard Vanora's response loud and clear.

'And if I saw you naked I'd die laughing. Now get your hands off me.' Vanora stepped away from the man and grabbed a couple of pitchers from the table before noticing Zoe standing hesitantly outside the tavern. 'Zoe! Follow me, girl,' she said before walking back towards the kitchen.

Zoe obediently weaved her way through the tavern, following Vanora right to the dimly lit counter.

'Farren, where's Jols?' Vanora asked as she set the pitchers she'd been carrying down on the counter.

The man behind the counter pointed to a man sitting alone with a mug of ale. Vanora smiled and sat down in front of him, dragging Zoe along behind her.

'Vanora.' The man smiled at the red-headed woman and as he faced Zoe, she smiled back. There was something open about his face, despite the stubble and disreputable clothes he was wearing, that made her warm to him.

'This is Zoe. She needs a job and I'm hoping you've got one for her,' Vanora said in highly accented Latin, introducing Zoe and patting the seat next to her as an invitation to sit down. 'Zoe, this is Jols. He makes sure that Arthur's knights survive off the battlefield, as well as being a squire of a sort to Arthur himself.'

'It is good to meet you, sir,' Zoe said in relatively less accented Latin. She sat down, but she wasn't exactly relaxed. For one, she was in what amounted to a job interview, for another, there were men with weapons, and it probably wasn't a good idea to give men with weapons alcohol. Her nerves were on edge now, and it showed in the rigid way she sat and her eyes constantly darting everywhere.

'Just Jols will do. What sort of work are you looking for?'

'Anything, I think. I can mend clothes and clean them. You don't want me to cook, but I will work hard, no matter what,' Zoe promised, flinching at a particularly loud roar from behind her.

'Vanora, are you sure about this?' Jols asked. 'Why her?'

Zoe didn't appreciate being talked about like she wasn't there and was about to say so when Vanora answered the man's rather rude question.

'I owe Braewyn a few favours, and Zoe is living with her. She needs the money for winter,' Vanora said casually.

Apparently Braewyn's name, or Vanora's words made Jols look again. He nodded somewhat reluctantly.

'All right. But if she doesn't meet the standards, she's gone. Got that?' Jols asked, looking at Zoe. 'It's nothing against you, but I have to look after the men.'

Zoe nodded, the sharp retort that she wasn't an idiot choked down by the sincerity of Jols' voice. He must care for the kidnapping group of knights a lot, and Zoe could respect that, at least. Despite her own grudge against them (Zoe felt it was their fault that she was stuck in the past because…just because) and their lack of personal hygiene, they seemed decent, particularly when she compared their treatment of her, particularly Arthur's, to the legionary this morning who had scared her so badly.

Jols nodded and took a sip of his ale. 'I know we need more people working in the laundry. How they go through that many clothes is beyond me. You'll be washing and mending clothes for various knights and servants if you decide to accept.'

'Thank you, I would like to work there,' Zoe assured him.

'Tomorrow morning, go round the back of the fort, there's a small gate there. From that gate, make your way to the Sarmatian quarters. You know which one that is, yes?" He continued when Zoe nodded. "Good. Go inside, wait by the main doors, somebody will come out to show you where you need to go. Good enough for you?'

Fairly sure that she understood the instructions, Zoe nodded again.

'How much are you going to pay her?' Vanora asked.

'Same as we pay the other girls. It's not much, but it'll help. And I can promise you a bit of protection from the Romans. They're not so quick to mess with the girls if the knights are involved. Come early tomorrow.'

'Thank you. I will be there.'

'Good, see you later Jols, thanks.' Vanora stood up and massaged her back gently, as if it was troubling her a little.

'No trouble, Vanora. And if I were you, I'd stop Bors before Dagonet has to carry him back home.' Jols pointed at a large bald man who was swaying somewhat alarmingly.

Vanora growled, forgetting about Zoe and marched off to confront the man. Zoe stood up and started to leave the tavern. Really it was far too noisy, with too many drunks and too many weapons for her to feel comfortable.

'What do you think you're doing?' Zoe heard Vanora yell at the bald man. 'Put that down, you've had more than enough.'

'My little flower, don't worry about me.' Despite his size, the knight sounded downright frightened of the diminutive red head.

Zoe heard the sound of a slap as she walked past the two of them. She looked over to make sure that Vanora wasn't in any trouble. Slapping was usually not a good sign, but apparently in this case it was normal, as Vanora was now engaged in a rather inappropriate display of public affection. Seriously, if the two of them were going to kiss like that, Zoe thought, it would be much better for them to go away in a corner somewhere rather than in the middle of the bar.

Zoe heard whoops and cheers coming from another table, heard some crude suggestions and remembered she was around many drunken men with sharp, pointy objects. She decided to get the hell out of there as quickly as she could.

Unfortunately, leaving as quickly as she could proved to be difficult. The tavern was getting increasingly crowded with off-duty soldiers, street vendors, farmers and even the blacksmith who had mended Braewyn's pots were all congregated in the tavern talking, laughing and drinking. A few of the men were vaguely familiar, and she can tell from the glances and gestured of others that there are some conversations that appear to be focused on her.

And it didn't help that quite a few of them were visibly armed. That didn't mean much, though. The farmers and vendors who had closed up shop for tonight probably had some sort of blade on them as Zoe had learned when she had watched one street vendor deal with a thief attempting to steal from his stall about a month and a half ago. The off-duty soldiers were all carrying a similar knife strapped to their belt, as a symbol of their status, and there was a rowdy group over in the far corner who were _playing_ with daggers. She shuddered and began to make her way through the crowd, trying to avoid off-duty soldiers.

Particularly after this morning, Zoe really didn't like soldiers. They (like everyone else here) smelled terrible, they didn't speak the native language very well and they killed for a living, and, on top of that, her recent experiences with the legionaries had not been pleasant to say the least. She had been…assaulted by one this morning (she refused to think that she might actually have been raped if Arthur hadn't stopped the creep) and his comrade had done nothing to stop it. No, she would stay out of the way of all soldiers as much as possible.

Zoe shrunk as small as she could, not wanting to upset anyone by making them spill their drink or accidentally pissing them off, but that didn't stop men from bumping into her. Apparently during her talk with Jols the tavern had gotten about twenty more customers, none of whom the owner, despite the place being full to bursting, had turned away.

One particular man, an off-duty soldier, going by his sandals (which were typical Roman legionary uniform) jostled her particularly hard. The ale in his hand spilled over, onto the floor and onto his tunic.

'Look what you did!' The man turned, and Zoe's breath hitched and her heart started to race.

It was Gaius Ledipus, the legionary who had grabbed her, the man who had yanked, pawed at and was about to rape her and who Arthur had rescued her from. He was blind drunk and the hand that wasn't clutching the ale desperately was clenched into a fist and pulled back as though to strike.

'You! You got me punishment duty for a month, thanks to your precious Arthur. And you made me spill my ale!' the off-duty legionary yelled as his bleary eyes caught sight of Zoe, his words pronounced clearly despite obvious drunkenness. 'I'll get you good for that, you!'

'No!' Zoe screamed as the fist came speeding towards her, ducking as quickly as she could.

Gaius, unable to hit his target caught another man instead, one who had not been involved at all, on the shoulder, making him stagger drunkenly into another person, who howled in surprised pain.

The man he stumbled into had to retaliate, naturally, and the man who had been punched by the Roman turned to punch him back. Unfortunately, drunken men don't have the best aim and so Zoe had to duck out of the way again in order to dodge his blow. Right into another man, this one a burly farmer, judging by his clothes.

'You! Buy me another drink! You made me spill mine!' Gaius Ledipus screamed, choking a little as the man he'd accidentally punched hit him in the stomach. 'Bastard!' He coughed and retaliated, catching him in the chin.

Zoe caught sight of a man throwing his mug at the fighting men, and raised her arms to cover her head. The mug hit yet another man in the head before shattering on the ground. The man who had been hit tried to charge his way through to get at the man who had thrown the mug, but got punched on the way. His friends promptly joined in too in an attempt to help him out. It was all happening so quickly, spiralling out of control before Zoe could get away.

She screamed in pain when a farmer trying to join in the fight threw her hard into a table. The edge of the table had caught her hip and she just knew she was going to bruise there later. She tried to get up, but ducked under the table itself when she saw a man flying her way, propelled by a punch to his face.

She cowered under the table, as the tavern seemed to dissolve into a brawl of epic proportions. She had never known how dangerous it was to be involved in a bar fight, let alone in an age where weapons were more common than literacy abilities. She saw Vanora, looking angry at the brawl rather than cowering like herself, before pulling determinedly on the tunic of a large bald man, the one she had been kissing before, and dragging him away from the fight.

Zoe was terrified that she'd end up like Tristan, stabbed by a stranger and needing urgent medical attention. She didn't want to have to go to the equivalent of a doctor here, even if it was Braewyn. Zoe flinched as another mug went sailing by past her head. The hygiene was terrible; she was more likely to get an infection than get healthy again. The table shook as a man landed on it, before being whacked by another one. After a moment the two of them rolled off the table, still attempting to punch each others' lights out.

Suddenly, she felt a hard hand on her shoulder, grabbing the collar of her dress and hauling her from under the table and out into the storm of fists, curses and alcohol-induced violence.

'Let go of me!' Zoe screamed, barely hearing herself over the noise of the brawl. She thrashed in the grip of whoever it was holding her, panicked by the violence and this sudden direct threat to herself.

'Calm down, you stupid girl. I'm getting you out of here.'

Zoe looked at the man holding her for the first time, letting him drag her towards what she hoped was an exit. He wasn't particularly tall (which meant he still towered over her), but he was incredibly wide. His shoulders and arms, left bare by his tunic, were extraordinarily muscular. But from what Zoe could see he didn't have a knife on him. Maybe he was a blacksmith? They were large and muscular and didn't kidnap and kill people for fun. Or at least she didn't think they did. Then again, given how strange everyone here was, who knew?

'Let me go!' Zoe tried to tug away from the man, attempting to get him to let go of her dress and let her go back to cowering under the table. At least it was comparatively safe there!

Then she saw the stranger casually knock out someone out with one punch without lessening his grip on her. Sure he had been going to attack them, but blacksmiths probably weren't that casual about rendering someone unconscious she guessed. Or that calm about being attacked with what appeared to be half a broken amphora of wine. _OK, not a blacksmith then. _Zoe was both reassured that she could get out of here unharmed if he was protecting her, but even more frightened as to why the man was doing this for her.

'Stop panicking. I'm doing a favour to Vanora by getting you out of here in one piece,' the man snarled as though he had read her thoughts. Pushing her through the exit, they found themselves in a comparatively quiet courtyard.

'Let me go!' Zoe demanded again, and this time she was released. She nearly fell down her legs were shaking so much from the fear and adrenaline running through her system. She was torn between the need to run as far and as fast as she could and the one to break down and cry right here and right now. Her hip hurt like hell, too. It was just too much.

She started sinking to her knees, only to find herself supported by an arm as hard as any rock she'd ever felt.

'Careful, there. Calm down.' The man was rubbing gentle circles on her back, soothing her much like someone would use to calm a horse down. Zoe obviously wasn't a horse, though, so it wasn't that effective. Her brain kept dwelling on what could have happened. She could have been stabbed like Tristan had been, she could have been killed, the legionary could have gotten his hands on her. She really needed to calm down.

'My name's Percival. I won't hurt you. Easy there, I won't hurt you. Deep breaths now. What's your name?'

Zoe didn't move; she just took a few deep breaths. He was one of Arthur's knights. So she probably wouldn't be taken away and killed, but he had killed before. The hands on her back had been covered in blood at some stage. No wonder he was so unconcerned by the bar fight. His fellow knights were probably in there now.

Percival smelled bad, like stale sweat. Zoe knew because she was currently pressed against a stained tunic, breathing far too rapidly to be really calm. She flinched a little when Percival moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing gently, all the while murmuring nonsense about everything being all right.

'Thank you,' Zoe said to the shirt in front of her. She was sure it came out muffled.

The man didn't say anything and eventually Zoe pulled away. She looked up at his face. He wasn't handsome, but he wasn't ugly. His hair was longish, mousey brown and flopped into his face. His eyes were large and blue and looked out of place on a face so hard.

'Thank you,' Zoe said, this time to his face. He had pulled her out of a bar brawl; he deserved a 'thank you' at least. Then she turned around and ran while she could, despite the stabbing pain in her hip. She wasn't sure what this man wanted, if he'd really done Vanora a favour, and why he was being so kind to her. People just didn't do that sort of thing. And by that sort of thing she meant risking life and limb in a bar brawl. All she wanted was to get home, to 2008. Failing that she wanted to go back to Braewyn's house and scream and yell and have Braewyn cuddle her and make her a hot, calming tea and go to sleep. 'I'm going,' Zoe said in a voice that came out surprisingly unsteady.

'I'll walk you to your house. Vanora'd have my hide if I let you walk home alone and get mugged on the way or something,' Percival said, grinning as if he was inviting her to share a joke.

Zoe nodded dully, too drained for any attempt at humour. Anything that would get her away from the tavern and from these crazy men with their bar brawls and testosterone run wild.

She limped home, her hip aching with every step she took. And when she fell the man following her caught her. _Figured that the only knight who showed even a hint of chivalry had to do the whole knight in shining armour thing, too, _Zoe thought tiredly as he picked her up.

'Where do you live?' Percival asked softly, chest rumbling as he spoke.

Zoe gave directions softly and when she saw her house she got Percival to put her down. 'I'll make it. Put me down.'

Percival obeyed her somewhat reluctantly. 'What's your name?' he asked suddenly. 'I've been carrying you around for a while, and I think it'd be fair if I knew the name of such a fair lady.'

'Zoe,' she answered curtly, eager to be comforted by Braewyn (who Zoe knew would be waiting up for her, despite Zoe saying she should rest). Her emotions were beginning to get the better of her and she didn't want Percival to see her break down. 'Thank you for helping me,' Zoe choked out, before limping as quickly as she could to Braewyn's house.

She reached the door practically sobbing and ducked inside quickly, not realizing Percival was still watching her from where he'd put her down. Braewyn looked up from where she was sitting and mending beside the fire as Zoe crumpled to the floor right inside the house.

'What happened?' she asked, setting it aside and trying to comfort the distraught, nearly hysterical Zoe, rubbing her arms and putting a blanket around her.

'I managed to start a bar brawl. Everyone was fighting and then a strange man came and pulled me out. And he wouldn't let me go. Then he did let me go and I ran back here, and I've caused so much trouble for Vanora because I wouldn't just look where I was going and-'

'Stop. Deep breath. Calm down and tell me slowly,' Braewyn said, leading Zoe closer to the fire's warmth before moving to begin the tea that would calm her nerves.

Zoe retold the events of the evening, from her 'job interview' with Vanora and Jols, how much she'd wanted to get the job so she could pay Braewyn back for what she did, how happy she'd been when she'd gotten it and how she'd run into Gaius Ledipus again, what he'd said to her, the brawl and how she'd done nothing but hide under a table while Vanora was pulling men twice her size away from the fighting. How she'd been so scared she'd be stabbed like Tristan had been.

Braewyn handed the tea to her and, as Zoe started drinking it, she murmured nonsense about how it would all be fine, and that Zoe was all right now, so it couldn't have been that bad. Bar brawls happened all the time, they were just part of life.

'That's not comforting, Braewyn,' Zoe growled into her tea. 'Anyway, it was the first one I've seen. They weren't common where I come from.' Zoe fingered her grandmother's crucifix briefly, for reassurance that she didn't belong here. She let it go and took another sip of tea.

'One day, you'll have to tell me about it.'

Zoe looked up from her tea, puzzled and willing to be distracted from the terrible night she'd had. 'It's different. I miss it.'

'Go to sleep, Zoe. Everything will seem better in the morning. I promise.'

Zoe nodded, pulled off her sandals and curled up in the pile of furs that made her bed, not bothering to change into the clothes she wore for sleeping. She held out a hand for Braewyn, who lowered herself slowly, joints creaking onto the pile next to her, stroking her hair.

'Braewyn?'

'Yes?' the old woman asked, not ceasing her comforting movements.

'I'm glad I met you,' Zoe murmured, squeezing the old, wrinkled hand in hers.

'Thank you, Zoe,' the old woman replied, squeezing back.

Zoe hear Braewyn's reedy voice humming softly as she was lulled to sleep by the gentle hand in her hair and her own exhaustion.

xxx

A/N: Sorry about the long delay. Last year of school and all that jazz. But anyway, hope the chapter's good! Zoe's got herself a job now, and she's met another knight. I know there hasn't been much interaction with the knights in general, but according to the plan I have Lancelot will be appearing next chapter, if that's any consolation. As always, reviews are loved, Mary-Sue warnings are appreciated.

To everyone who has read my story, glad you're sticking with me. To those who have put it on their alerts or favourites lists, thanks stacks, I'm flattered you like it that much.

Thanks to my beta, homeric, I owe you! This would not be half as good (or coherent) as it is now without her work. You're wonderful!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn.


	9. Harvest

**9. Harvest**

The next morning Zoe was up early enough to get to the fort at dawn. She stayed away from any alleys and flinched when the Roman soldiers guarding the gate looked at her, but she merged into the small line of people entering the fort without any difficulty. Some were carrying food, others weapons (Zoe stayed away from them as much as she could) and others, like her, were carrying nothing.

Zoe made her way to the Sarmatian building, which was quiet this early in the morning. She was grateful for that as she didn't want to run into the knights. Living near their fort as she did she could hardly avoid hearing tales of their deeds. If Zoe listened to the rumors and didn't have personal experience, she would believe that the knights were all gallant and brave and handsome who spent all their time helping kittens out of trees and being heroic. _As if_, Zoe thought.

Sure, there were some very attractive knights, particularly Lancelot, but not all of them were drop-dead gorgeous. Tristan, for example, wasn't ugly, but then again, he also wasn't blindingly attractive like the stories described him as. And as for heroic…Zoe snorted in amusement. She'd heard far more stories of bar brawls than dragon-slaying, and more girls claiming to have slept with the knights than damsels who were formerly in distress thanking the men for their aid. She had no idea how the knights retained their prestige and glamour. None whatsoever.

Rumors said that there was no other group as good with their weapons, as trusted, as efficient as Arthur's knights. She'd heard nothing but good things of Arthur, and Percival had been almost chivalrous last night, but underneath the admiration for the skills of the Sarmatian knights she'd heard different stories. That they killed for fun and pleasure, that they bathed in blood and ate the flesh of their enemies.

Some of those tales were way out of proportion. She could see where the stories of them bathing in blood came from as she'd ridden with them while they were coming back from a mission and they were literally covered with the stuff. But she didn't think that they'd eat their dead enemies.

No, the reason she didn't want to run into the knights again was that they were bloody scary. She'd seen for herself how being seen with a knight was kind of like being seen with some celebrity-like David Beckham or something. She just didn't want that kind of attention. On top of that, they killed for a living. They had been doing this for years now, and, if you listened to the rumours, they wouldn't be allowed to stop for another ten. So there was this group of well-armed soldiers running around the place, who Zoe would normally try to avoid, however, on top of that, they had a reputation for enthusiastic participation in drunken brawls and even more enthusiastic pursuit of women.

All in all, she didn't really want to work in the Sarmatian building. But she did want to survive the winter, and that was the deciding factor.

'Are you Zoe?' she heard somebody ask. Zoe turned to see a tall, plump girl with a smile that made her ten times prettier beckoning to her. 'Come on, we've got work to do!'

The girl introduced herself as Liliana, and Zoe found out in a remarkably short time that her parents were both Roman; her father a former legionary who had elected to stay in Britain, her mother the daughter of a merchant who'd become impoverished. She babbled on happily, informing Zoe that she not only had two brothers; one a blacksmith, the other in the army somewhere, but also a younger sister married with a child and that her mother was pestering her to get married as soon as possible.

Head spinning from this information, Zoe was led to a large room with a few other girls sitting in it. Liliana immediately took Zoe over to a group of three who were sitting, sewing and chatting.

'Everyone, this is Zoe. She's nice, but a bit quiet. She's working here now.' Liliana introduced her, sitting herself down firmly onto a stool.

A girl with very long dark hair in a plait reached over and pulled another stool up. 'Come, sit down, needles are here, thread is here, and the clothes the knights have ruined are in the middle.' She grinned at Zoe. 'I'm Evelyn.'

A girl with lighter brown hair, left loose over her shoulders looked up and smiled briefly. 'Blanchefleur,' she introduced herself. 'Nice to meet you.'

The last one was very thin, and had dark curly hair that looked very thick. She handed Zoe a needle once she got herself comfortable. She was wearing a dress that looked more expensive than what Zoe, or the other girls were wearing. 'I'm Lucia,' she introduced herself.

Zoe sat and listened to the girls talking, trying to remember names and to get the stitching right on other people's clothes. She learned a lot that day, mostly about the girls she was working with. Evelyn was the youngest of eight and was being courted by a blacksmith and was probably going to marry him if he ever got around to proposing. Blanchefleur was the third child of six, her mother dead after the last birth, her oldest brother ill with pneumonia and unable to work. She had her eye on one of the knights, for which the other girls scolded her.

'Never love a knight. They can't marry and, no matter how good a lay they are, they never stay after it.' Lucia said, to which the other girls shrieked with laughter. Zoe didn't understand the joke, but smiled politely as she worked on a torn sleeve. The faint reddish stain around it suggested that a weapon had torn it, and she felt vaguely queasy as she stitched it up.

'You would know, Lucia,' Blanchefleur snapped, spearing the fabric in front of her with her needle more viciously than was needed.

Evelyn, seeing Zoe's confused look explained. 'Lucia went to bed with the man Blanchefleur loves. And Blanchefleur's very upset because he's been heard talking about another woman.'

'Which knight?' Zoe asked. 'If you do not mind saying,' she hastily corrected herself, looking to Blanchefleur.

'No secret. Sir Percival.' Blanchefleur informed her, a dreamy smile on her face, which stayed there even as she continued working.

'Like I said, they can't marry and they don't stay, it's pointless.' Lucia sounded rather bitter about that.

'You loved him, too.' Zoe realized.

'Yeah, lot of good that did me. I had to visit the witch on the edge of town, Braewyn, to get some herbs to get rid of his baby. My mother was furious and I was married off to a cloth merchant. But Percival did put in a good word for me with Jols, so I have this job.'

'I live with 'that witch', and she's been nothing but good to me.' Zoe said, angrier than she'd been in a long time, frowning at Lucia. 'Don't say another word about her.'

Lucia paled and then flushed while Blanchefleur and Liliana snickered. They all continued working, but avoided talking about Braewyn after that.

Zoe settled into her job, getting her pay at the end of each week and giving it to Braewyn. The three weeks wages that she'd gotten so far had come in handy in terms of buying things for the winter. During her work at the fort, she made quite good friends with the four girls she'd been introduced to, particularly Liliana, whose babbling reminded her a little of Suze back home. Liliana was direct, to the point and she had an enthusiasm for living that exasperated and amused Zoe at the same time. She even seemed to enjoy the hours they spent cleaning and mending the clothes the knights ruined.

Unlike Liliana, Lucia was much more cynical. She had contempt for men that only lasted until they wanted her in their beds, and resurfaced after they threw her out again. She didn't believe that people were inherently good and her stubborn pessimism really annoyed Zoe sometimes, because it made Zoe think of everything she'd lost. Nevertheless, Lucia had a wickedly funny tongue on her, and nobody was spared. Zoe grew to be remarkably thick-skinned to Lucia in her first week, but any insult directed towards Braewyn from the Roman girl made Zoe snap back.

In these situations, it was usually Evelyn who calmed everyone down and sent the conversation onto a less confrontational detour. She was a really sweet, good girl, kind and gentle and she talked a lot about the blacksmith she wanted to marry. His name was Edan, and Zoe met him once when he came to walk her home one day when they got out later than usual. He was mild-mannered and shy, but with huge shoulders like any blacksmith.

Blanchefleur was a bouncy, bubbly, romantic twit. But Zoe still enjoyed her company. She was the youngest of them, both in age and in maturity, and had a tendency to see the world through rose-coloured glasses that annoyed both Zoe and Lucia. The world was not a nice, happy place. If it were such a wonderful place, Zoe would not have ended up here. Blanchefleur needed to learn that, before she made an idiot of herself in front of Percival and had all her dreams crushed. She was also insatiably curious, and kept asking Zoe about her home, about how she'd come to be at Hadrian's Wall, and particularly her interaction with the knights.

The others were also interested, and they eventually pried her story out of her. That she'd been lost in the woods and the knights took her back to Hadrian's wall, she'd been treated by the doctor at the fort and then taken to Braewyn's house to live. Naturally, they all thought it was terribly romantic and demanded the details.

'It wasn't romantic, it was terrifying. Big, scary, stinky men with weapons and covered in blood picked me up and locked me in a room overnight,' Zoe protested, but they, particularly Blanchefleur, persisted in believing that Zoe had been swept off her feet by clean, handsome, chivalrous men. Apparently the general rumours and the ones that these girls listened to were a little different.

Zoe decided, overall, that she liked working at the fort. She got to talk with different people and didn't have to go near anything more dangerous than her needle. Sure, the work wasn't exactly stimulating, and her hands got red and chapped from the sewing and laundry that she did, but Braewyn helped by rubbing some plant goo made from hyssop on her finger joints. Zoe didn't know if it was the oil that helped, or Braewyn's concern over her wellbeing that did the trick. The routine she'd managed to establish over the three weeks she'd been working at the fort gave her a sense of stability she didn't realize she'd missed.

Zoe also enjoyed the walk back to Braewyn's house. She saw the men and women who farmed the land behind the Roman fort work frenetically to get their harvest in on time. Evelyn and Blanchefleur had to go home quickly and help their families harvest their crops, but Lucia, Liliana and Zoe were town girls, and apparently that had some status. According to Lucia you were more sophisticated if you walked through shit rather than through mud, but Liliana explained that town people were the ones who could afford to buy their food rather than rely on their farms.

Another good thing about working at the fort, apart from the weekly wage, her new friends and her walk home, was that her Latin was improving dramatically. She felt much more comfortable about speaking now, and her new friends and Braewyn noticed that.

'I'm glad you are speaking now. Maybe soon you will tell me about your home, I love to hear stories.' Braewyn smiled one evening when Zoe brought back her second week's pay. 'Tomorrow we will buy you some winter boots.'

'Do you have the money for that?' Zoe asked anxiously. Her current footwear, exactly nothing, would not be sufficient in winter. She had had a hard enough time adjusting to wearing nothing on her feet, but after her sneakers had broken two months after she'd arrived in this strange place she'd had no alternative. But winter meant snow and snow was cold. And she would like to have all her toes at the end of winter. But, then again, she also wanted to have enough food to eat during winter and the food was probably more important overall.

But she'd eventually gotten her boots, much to her delight. The cobbler, a man with iron-grey hair and a large nose had measured her feet carefully and cut out the leather soles to her size exactly. Once she'd gotten the boots, a week after they'd been ordered, they fit better than any shoe in her own time had. These were made exactly for her and even if the technology was more primitive, they were special. The girls at the fort seemed to agree as well, and looked on her new boots with envy when Zoe wore them to her work for the first time.

'I wish mine were as good as those. Must have cost at least a month's pay!' Evelyn poked at the leather.

'I hate being one of four.' Liliana pouted. 'I'd kill you for those boots if you weren't my friend.'

'Imagine being one of eight!' Evelyn laughed good-naturedly.

Zoe, when she wasn't working at the fort, helped Braewyn dig up their vegetables and store them. She hated the backbreaking work and the dirt under her nails, but she gritted her teeth and remembered that it was so she and Braewyn would survive the winter. She honestly had no idea how people lived without a supermarket during the winter. They bought flour at the market (for prices Zoe's jaw dropped at) and Braewyn explained that they would mostly be living off hot vegetables and bread, maybe with a little meat to supplement their diet, but they would, by no means, go hungry and Zoe should stop worrying herself.

Zoe ignored Braewyn, and instead began checking their house over. She got Byron to go over what she couldn't and she paid him in mending for the firewood he stockpiled for the winter. There was a pile almost as high as Zoe next to Braewyn's house and she was told she'd use most if it by the time the snows were gone. Zoe also kept an even more careful watch over the hellebore in the cupboard-she did not want rats getting her food for the winter. Braewyn thought she was too anxious about it, but Zoe protested that it was just a matter of hygiene. That, and she didn't want the rats getting fat on vegetables she'd worked hard to grow and harvest.

At night, by candlelight, she and Braewyn worked on making winter clothing for Zoe, as she had none. Braewyn worked on making dresses of very thick wool. These were even more shapeless than the ones she'd worn during summer, but they were warm. Zoe was learning how to knit stockings for herself. She'd offered to make some for Braewyn, but after seeing her relatively disastrous attempts the old woman declined.

Zoe would be grateful for that as the weather got colder and colder. Her first stockings were full of holes and not at all warm. She didn't want little old Braewyn suffering for her incompetence. Zoe's friends started huddling closer and closer to the braziers that were kept burning in the room where they worked and it got harder and harder to warm their fingers.

'Thank God that the knights don't go on as many missions in winter,' Evelyn murmured one particularly cold day, blowing on her finger. 'If we had to repair this many shirts and tunics and trousers and socks in winter my fingers would drop off.'

'It's like they tear their clothes on purpose to make trouble for us,' Blanchefleur sulked, sullenly repairing the seam of a pair of breeches.

'Because it's all they think about, Blanchefleur. I just know Sir Percival wakes up in the morning and the first thing he says is 'how to I irritate the laundry girls today'?' Lucia murmured blandly, concentrating on her work.

Zoe had laughed when Blanchefleur had nodded emphatically before protesting immediately afterwards and gone to give the tunics she'd just finished to the girls who usually carried them up to the knights' rooms. But there was only one girl there, a rather young one. She looked about fifteen, pale-faced and flustered, her frizzy hair coming out of the plait she'd put it in.

'Oh, damn!' The girl nearly dropped a pile of neatly folded shirts and Zoe moved quickly to steady them. 'Thank you. The other two ran off somewhere warm, so I'm the only one left. As you can see, I'm a bit…overwhelmed.' The girl looked nearly ready to burst into tears.

'Here, give me some and I'll help. Do you know what goes to who?' Zoe asked, eager for the chance to stretch her legs. She knew that at this time of day the knights were usually out in the yard training with each other unless they were out on a mission. Since the knights and their weapons were unlikely to be in the rooms, she felt relatively comfortable putting their clothes where they were supposed to be and getting the hell out.

The girl nodded and babbled her thanks, dividing the shirts into piles.

'How do you tell which shirt belongs to which knight?' Zoe asked, watching this frantic activity amusedly.

'They've all got a little symbol somewhere. The girls put it on for them. See the wolf is Sir Tristan, the bear is Sir Dagonet, the cat with the ruff is Sir Lancelot, and the hound is Sir Kay. The hawk is Sir Percival.' The girl babbled, continuing to make piles while she talked. Zoe wasn't really paying attention until she heard a familiar name.

'And Vanora does most of Sir Bors' things now, has been since they became lovers four years back. I hear she's expecting her third little one sometime this winter,' the girl said, still sorting the clothes. 'There, that's all of them. If you still wish to help, could you pick up those two piles, please?'

Zoe, somewhat shocked that Vanora was the lover of a knight and berating herself for not realizing it, picked up a few piles of shirts and followed the girl through the fort, careful not to trip or drop the clothes. The Sarmatians were indeed at training; she could hear the laughter and the ringing of sword against sword from here.

'This way,' the girl said again, gesturing with her head down a long corridor with doors to either side. All of the doors had names written on them, and underneath a symbol. So that was how the girls knew where to deliver the clothes.

She looked at a prancing stag and the name written above it. She had a few shirts for 'Sir Bedivere' in her pile. She knocked awkwardly on the door and waited a moment. As there was no response, Zoe opened the door. Inside was larger than she'd expected, and this room had windows. The light shone in, but Zoe shivered a little. This late in the year, the sun brought no warmth.

She set the shirts down on top of a chest that was probably used for such a purpose. The room smelled like dirty man, the bed was rumpled, there was a stand of armour over in a corner that gave her a fright when she turned around. She also saw books on a table. She looked around a little guiltily and opened one up. It was in Latin, and Zoe hadn't ever had to read or write in Latin before. She had no time for this, she had a job to do, and so Zoe reluctantly closed the book and walked out of the room.

She repeated the process with Sir Dagonet's clothing, and with Sir Kay's. She moved on to Sir Lancelot's clothing, the last she had to deliver, remembering the impossibly handsome man from her first night in Roman Britain. She knocked, paused, and opened the door as she had with all the other rooms. She set the clothes down on a chest and turned to leave, only to run into a sweaty chest.

'Hello there, what are you doing in my room?'

It was Lancelot, and he was still as handsome as she remembered. And how could she have forgotten that voice? Lancelot walked over to the suit of armour that was standing in the corner and carefully set two swords next to it. He stripped his sweaty shirt off, completely unconcerned with Zoe's presence in the room. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, Zoe noticed a little giddily.

'I came to return your clothes, sir,' Zoe stammered, avoiding looking at the man. She did not need to make an idiot of herself in front of every knight in the place. She'd already looked stupid in front of Gawain, Arthur and Percival, and probably Tristan as well. She really didn't want to add this incredibly handsome man to the list of 'People Who Have Seen Zoe Do Incredibly Stupid Things'.

'She speaks! Last time I saw you, my lady, you could say nothing I understood.' Lancelot's lips curved into a smile so heart-stopping it should be illegal. Or that's what Zoe thought.

'You remembered me?' Zoe could feel herself blushing. She knew he didn't mean anything to him, but to have a stunningly attractive man like him remember her was so flattering that she couldn't help herself.

Lancelot stepped closer, so close that she could feel his warmth. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. 'I don't forget pretty ladies, Zoe,' he murmured, kissing Zoe's hand lightly.

She felt her cheeks burn and she was sure that when his lips made contact with her skin her heart had stopped for an instant. 'Thank you,' Zoe stammered, pulling her hand away from his calloused ones and scurrying out of the door. Inwardly she cursed herself and her inability to say anything witty in the presence of handsome men. Even if he was, by all reports, a womanizer who would flirt with anything that moved. And a man who killed as part of his everyday routine. The hand that had been holding hers just then had probably been used to kill so many people. That wasn't a pleasant thought at all. Zoe shook her head hard to get rid of the unwanted fact.

She nearly ran into the girl with the frizzy hair as she left the room. She was gaping at Zoe, and when she closed her mouth she looked somewhat jealously at her.

'You know Sir Lancelot?' She demanded.

'No. No, I don't,' Zoe said, shaking her head again and walking down the corridor.

So intent was she on getting away from Lancelot, the weapons he was collecting and his wickedly seductive smile that she missed the conversation going on behind her between the man she was running from and another of his comrades. She really shouldn't have left the laundry - it was safe there. She just felt uneasy around men with weapons, even if they were under Arthur's command.

'Sir Lancelot kissed your hand and knew your name! I can't believe it!' The girl was still gushing about a supposed romance between the darkly handsome knight and Zoe. Zoe for her part, merely rolled her eyes and resigned herself to her friends' questions as soon as the news got around.

After all, it wasn't like she'd been caught in bed with him. Anyway, there were bigger things to worry about than unpleasant gossip. Like what else she had to do before winter arrived.

xxx

A/N: Here's Lancelot! I managed to stick to my plan (for once). I'm also quite proud that I got this out in under a week. RL is being nice to me right now and letting me write in peace. Thanks to my lovely beta, homeric, for her work. I know I say it every chapter, but she's a huge part of why this fic is apparently so popular. On that note-over 3, 000 hits! Yay! Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, put this story on alerts or favourites, and many, MANY thanks to those who review!

Just a couple of quick notes here-the other OCs I introduced are not going to be huge parts in the story, and if it seems they're heading down Mary-Sue lines, please tell me. They're going to be consistently appearing, but the focus will mostly stay on Zoe and the knights. Liliana is of Latin origin, it means lily, Evelyn is Celtic and it means light, Blanchefleur is French for 'white flower' (she's a figure from Arthurian legend who I wanted to put in), Lucia is Latin and means 'graceful light'. Adan means 'fire' and is Celtic origin.

Also, I just want to make a point about Zoe-at the moment, she isn't strong. She's scared easily, has no confidence in herself and I can see how some people would find it irritating. She's a growing, changing character though. This is shaping up to be a really long fic, so I want people to be able to see the changes in Zoe as she grows. So if right now her fear of sharp and pointy objects irritates you, please stick with this!

Disclaimer: King Arthur and the lovely men are not mine. I just play with them. I promise to give them back exactly how I found them.


	10. Samhain and Snow

**10. Samhain and Snow**

Two or so weeks after Zoe had run into Lancelot by accident, there was a celebration by the villagers to commemorate the end of the harvest. It was loud, rowdy and involved a lot of fire. Braewyn had called it Samhain and had asked Zoe to help her get there as it was outside the village and away from the fort. Zoe, under Braewyn's directions, had put out their fire, rugged up and had carried a large stick dipped in beeswax. Apparently she would light it later in the evening from a communal fire. Braewyn herself was carrying a small bag that seemed rather heavy, but Braewyn had refused both Zoe's help and her demand to know what was inside it.

Zoe and Braewyn had followed the crowd at dusk to a ring of stones just out of sight of the village. It was beautiful in the dark, lit by two large bonfires, and strangely haunting. This was the first time Zoe had been so far out of the village since she had arrived and the freedom she felt was exhilarating. She had watched as the villagers and farmers took stock of the animals and decided which would be the ones to die before driving them between the two fires, which Braewyn said would purify them. Thankfully, they weren't killed right there and Braewyn explained that only some of them would be killed right away, the others would be slaughtered later in the winter when the meat was needed. More still would go back to the farms to stay alive to reproduce in spring. Many people left after that, and Braewyn explained that they were the Christian farmers who would not want to participate in a pagan festival.

'Oh. So why am I here?' Zoe fingered the crucifix around her neck, afraid that somebody would see it and demand she leave.

'Because I think you'd enjoy it,' Braewyn replied. 'Don't worry, everyone is welcome here.'

There had been dancing, but Braewyn was too old and stiff for it, and Zoe a little hesitant to join in the revelry with strangers, so they had sat near one of the stone pillars until the moon was high in the sky, watching the spinning, whirling figures and listening to the music played on pipes for the most part, with drums creating a rapid rhythm. Zoe thought she saw Byron and Blanchefleur among the dancers, and she talked briefly to Lucia, who was rather drunk, but for the most part Braewyn and Zoe talked together. When Zoe had asked what this was to celebrate, Braewyn had told Zoe that this was the night where the dead would come out and walk the earth.

'It's Halloween!' Zoe exclaimed with delight. She had always loved Halloween; she and Suze had a tradition of hiding in trees and scaring their other friends when they had come around for the equally traditional Halloween party held by Suze's parents back at home. Over a thousand years into the future. Suddenly this pagan festival felt like a rock in her stomach. She wished she could have been at home to celebrate this, rather than stuck here.

Braewyn seemed to detect her changing mood and grabbed her hand. When Zoe started a little, Braewyn squeezed it and smiled gently. Zoe threw herself at Braewyn in a hug, trying not to cry. She sniffled a little and took a few deep breaths before being sure she wouldn't burst into tears and went back to watching the dancing.

During the course of the festival, people kept coming up and throwing things into the fire. Sometimes it was bones, sometimes it was a rock, other times it seemed to be other things. Zoe had seen somebody throw a doll in the fire, a spoon had been burned, a comb went in as well.

'Why are they doing this?' Zoe asked Braewyn.

'Come, help me,' Braewyn asked. 'They are remembering their dead; the spirits who will be here tonight.'

Zoe helped Braewyn up from the ground, the older woman taking her sack with her. She threw four pebbles into the fire and watched as they cracked apart.

Zoe waited in silence as the old woman stared for a little longer into the fire before turning around and walking back to where they had been sitting. She seemed older and more tired than ever now.

'The fires are to keep the dead away, their light will connect us to life and to each other,' Braewyn explained quietly as the dancing died down and people began to walk between the fires and light torches from it. This was what Zoe's stick was for, Braewyn said, and as Braewyn led her between the fires Zoe lit it.

They followed the trail of torches back to the village surrounding the Roman fort and lit their hearth fire from the torch Zoe had been carrying. The house was very cold when they had first entered it and Zoe for the first time appreciated exactly how much the fire did for their house.

'Braewyn, do you remember anyone special on Samhain?' Zoe asked suddenly as she got into her nightclothes. 'Were the pebbles for anyone special?'

Braewyn was combing her long, white hair in preparation for sleeping, but at Zoe's question the old woman stopped her motions. 'I remember my husband, Ronan, and our children. They pebbles cracked because they're all dead now; they all died years ago, my boys from fever, Ronan from cough and my girl died trying to give birth to her first child.'

'I didn't know you had a family,' Zoe blurted out. She had never thought Braewyn had been more than an old healer on the edge of town, alone except for Zoe. For a moment she regretted not asking the woman about her life earlier.

'No, you never asked,' Braewyn said.

'Would you tell me about them?' Zoe asked as she snuggled beneath their furs.

'Not tonight, Zoe. I am tired and the dead are close. Leave the dead in peace to rest.'

Zoe had fallen asleep that night and she had dreamed of her home, but everyone was dead in it, and they had come back as ghosts asking why Zoe had left.

When Zoe had woken up, the world was white. It had snowed. The first snows had come roaring in, and Zoe was incredibly grateful for her new boots, which protected her feet from the worst of it. Even if she would have preferred actual snow boots that were waterproof. Walking to and from the fort was difficult and Zoe dedicated herself to making more stockings in the candlelight at night. She wanted to keep all her toes, not lose them to frostbite and anyway, she hated having cold feet.

The thick woollen dresses Braewyn had made for her may as well have been nothing in the bitingly cold wind. At night Zoe huddled next to the fire, shivering and clutching a blanket around her shoulders dressed in her warmest clothes. Braewyn, despite being very old, barely acknowledged the change in temperature and warned Zoe instead that there was worse to come.

'It's so much warmer where I come from,' Zoe had complained to Braewyn, sticking her stockinged feet close to the fire in a vain attempt to warm them up. Braewyn had laughed at her and informed Zoe that the heart of winter was much colder than this.

At work the other girls laughed at her lack of tolerance for the cold as she huddled close to the braziers Jols had put in the laundry room for their comfort, mentioning that the knights frequently rode out with bare arms and, in Galahad's case, with bare legs.

'Well he'll have trouble when he freezes and his little Galahad drops off, then,' Zoe informed Evelyn and Blanchefleur as she warmed her fingers after mending a tear in the seat of a pair of trousers that, judging by the wolf sign in them, belonged to Tristan. Evelyn's cheeks had looked so warm from her blush Zoe thought she could have defrosted her fingers there instead of the brazier.

Zoe was incredibly jealous of the quarters the knights had. The thick stone and large fireplaces would keep out the cold much better than her gusty, leaky hut with no proper heating system in place. That was one thing Zoe was eternally grateful to the Romans for-their technology. They managed to design even their barracks for the soldiers so that they stayed warm during the winter. Also, the sophisticated Roman heating system for the baths allowed Zoe to feel genuinely clean during the winter, despite having to pay for the privilege of using the public bathhouse. And if she was willing to bathe with others present. In the end, hygiene outweighed modesty and she took the plunge...as it were. Thankfully, there was a women-only section, so she could get clean without the embarrassment of stripping off in front of the soldiers.

All in all, Zoe hated being cold. Winter was her least favourite season at the best of times, but now it seemed a million times worse. Zoe spent her nights cuddled close to Braewyn, sharing body heat. Yes, they had blankets and furs, but it was so much warmer when they slept close together. And, after living with the old woman for several months, Zoe didn't mind. Braewyn tended to snore a little, but apparently Zoe sometimes talked in her sleep and had a tendency to drool, so it evened out in the end.

But Zoe missed heaters. The fire was pretty, yes, but completely ineffective at warming the house unless you were practically sitting in it. And Zoe missed electric blankets. And houses that didn't leak. And even global warming. Winters back in her time had never been this cold, which Zoe attributed to the greenhouse effect. She didn't care if it was illogical; she just hated the cold that much.

She missed being able to lie on the couch with a novel and a cup of hot chocolate. Damn she missed hot chocolate. Braewyn's teas were nothing compared to it.

Zoe couldn't help but compare this winter so far to her last one. This one was spent largely huddled over whatever fire was closest, doing repetitive and dull work that made her fingers ache, trudging through snow and eating even less than she'd become accustomed to. It wasn't because there wasn't enough food; it was because Braewyn wanted to make sure it lasted until well into spring. Last winter she'd been at home, with a heater, the fake fire going in her family's fireplace and she'd had the whole house to herself as her family had gone on a skiing holiday. And she'd had her boyfriend, Zack, over and they'd cuddled together not for warmth or because they needed to, but because they wanted to.

One good thing that happened was that Evelyn's blacksmith suitor had finally proposed to her. Evelyn had come in late, cheeks redder than usual and didn't seem to feel the cold.

'He did it! Adan finally asked permission to marry me!' The usually soft-spoken girl was unusually loud with her exclamation and soon congratulations were pouring in on all sides.

'I'm happy for you. You love him a lot.' Lucia had unbent enough to give her sincere congratulations to Evelyn, who was trapped under Blanchefluer. 'Let the woman breathe!' Lucia snapped at the exuberant girl.

'I'm just so happy! It's going to be a spring wedding, yes? Spring weddings are the best,' Braewyn hugged Evelyn tighter.

'When Adan can match the dowry and pay the priest, we'll be married in the Christian church,' Evelyn said. 'But yes, it should be in spring.'

'Am I invited?' Blanchefleur batted her eyelashes playfully at Evelyn. 'Please?'

'Of course you, but please, let me go so we can do our work. Sir Percival and his friends are all waiting for their clothes,' Evelyn replied.

'Adan didn't ask you to marry him?' Zoe asked, after congratulating Evelyn on her good fortune.

'He asked my father. Why? Is that not normal where you come from?' Evelyn asked. Zoe had only told them that she came from 'far away', and after Zoe had consistently refused to describe her home for them they'd stopped bothering her for the details. Blanchefleur still tried occasionally, though.

'No. It isn't,' Zoe said.

'But what if your father won't go through with the dowry?' Liliana asked curiously, looking up from the shirt she was repairing.

'No dowries where I come from. Men and women get married because they love each other, not because of money or anything like that,' Zoe explained.

'I doubt that. They probably just hide it better where you come from,' Lucia said, snapping the thread of a finished seam and examined the trousers for any other tears.

Zoe picked up a sock to get to work again herself, and tried to explain herself better. 'Where I come from, marriage is supposed to be about love. I know that there are people who marry for money, but when most people choose to marry, how much money their partner brings to the relationship isn't really important. And your parents can't force you to get married, either. You choose who you get married to and your parents just have to deal with it if they don't like it.'

'Sounds wonderful,' Blanchefleur sighed.

'It's normal for me,' Zoe said.

'I'm lucky that I love Adan. I know not everyone's that fortunate,' Evelyn couldn't help but glance over at Lucia.

The other woman shrugged. 'I've gotten used to it. He's well-off, stupid and drunk most of the time, so I can do whatever I wish. Including finding men.'

'That's not very nice, Lucia. You promised to be faithful to your husband!' Blanchefleur protested.

'I also promised to love and cherish him,' Lucia added. 'What's another broken vow in my life? Much less one I swore before a God I don't believe in.'

'You're not Christian?' Zoe asked.

'I believe in the old ways,' Lucia replied.

'As much as you believe in anything,' Blanchefleur snapped.

'Blanchefleur and Lucia are both pagans. Liliana and I are Christian,' Evelyn explained.

'And you are much more devout than I am,' Liliana added. 'I know you're Christian, Zoe, I've seen you go to the Church a few times.'

'So you'll be coming to Christ's birthday mass?' Evelyn asked eagerly.

'I suppose I will,' Zoe had almost forgotten that winter meant Christmas was coming. She'd been a little distracted with other things.

'It's not such a huge celebration, Evelyn. I don't even know if I'm going. My parents are both insisting I go to our family's Saturnalia celebrations instead.'

'But it's Our Lord's birthday!'

'It's not like His Passion,' Liliana replied.

'So Christmas isn't a big deal for you?' Zoe asked.

'Christmas?' Evelyn looked a little puzzled.

'It's just mass. We celebrate Jesus Christ's birth, but when it comes down to it, it's just mass,' Liliana explained.

'Where I come from it was really important,' Zoe murmured. No Christmas. That was a depressing thought.

'But I saw you at Samhain!' Blanchefleur protested.

'Was I not supposed to?' Zoe asked, pulling her mind away from depressing thoughts like Christmas without presents and chocolate and cheesy Christmas carols and Santa Claus.

'I thought you were like us!'

'Have you not seen her crucifix?' Lucia asked. 'She's a Christian. At least in name.'

'In any case, I will see you at the mass, won't I?' Evelyn asked and smiled brilliantly when Zoe nodded.

'And you'll have to come to the solstice celebration! Yule is so much more fun than the mass! You can come after whatever the Christians do is finished,' Blanchefleur added.

'Isn't Yule a Christian celebration?' Zoe asked, a little confused. Yuletide has always meant Christmas to her.

'No, silly! It's the time of year when the sun is reborn. We celebrate the new life it will bring by keeping fires burning through the longest night of the year.' Blanchefleur gushed.

'In other words we get very drunk and dance around bonfires,' Lucia explained with a straight face, ignoring Blanchefleur's protests.

'I've been trying to convince Evelyn to come for years, but she always stays at home.' Blanchefleur stuck her tongue out at Evelyn.

Liliana laughed at the exasperated expression on Evelyn's face. 'She's got her faith, you have yours so let her be. It's bad enough you managed to get me to go last year. Now let's stop chatting and start working, perhaps?'

Everyone started a little and Blanchefleur and Liliana headed off to scrub the rest of the clothes as Lucia and Evelyn got to work on the pile of tunics that needed mending.

As for Zoe, her work now somehow included the job of giving the knights back their clothes. She'd never had to do this before, and the reason the other girls got her to do it now was probably due to rumours that she was carrying on a torrid romance with Lancelot thanks to the bouncy, frizzy-haired girl. Blanchefleur and Liliana always giggled more than usual whenever she was given that job, so it was probably their doing.

She got to know when it was a bad idea to return the clothes to the knights' chambers in only a few short weeks. For instance, right after training was a bad time as they were generally waving weapons around and fighting on the way back from the sparring arena. And while Zoe was a little more comfortable around weapons (meaning she no longer squeaked and flinched from their mere presence) she was incredibly scared of them when they were being brandished like that.

Additionally, right after training the knights always stripped and changed clothes. Apparently this was why they got more laundry in the middle of the day. So she waited until the knights were in the chamber where the Round Table was before she went to collect their clothes.

Sometimes she misjudged her timing though, and she did get to see many half naked or completely naked men. Gawain did have a gorgeous body, as did Sir Dinadan and Sir Bedivere and especially Lancelot. Gawain seemed to find it funny when she knocked and entered on his call and squeaked to find him without a shirt. She knew that she blushed and stuttered every time that happened, and Gawain's amused grin told her that it would keep happening. At some stage he'd found out the name of the little laundry girl who had been returning his clothes recently and he seemed to find Zoe's peculiar quirks amusing. Like how she could sometimes be persuaded to joke around, but at the first sign of him touching a weapon Zoe would make her excuses and leave. And particularly how she blushed every time she saw his naked chest. His laughter and the consistency with which he found excuses to take off his shirt when Zoe entered the room certainly suggested that he thought it funny.

Another unspoken rule was that any time before the Church bells rung was a very bad time. Zoe thought that the bells rung around what would be ten o'clock, and, generally speaking, only Tristan, Sir Kay and Arthur were even awake before that time. Actually, Zoe had run into Tristan a few times on her way to work at dawn. He had a bow and his quiver of arrows with him and looked quite intimidating. He never said hello like the other knights did, just nodded coolly at her when he even acknowledged her. The other knights were probably sleeping off hangovers at that time of the morning, and it wasn't a good thing to wake up any of them by knocking and exacerbating their hangovers. Dinadan in particular didn't take well to this and had actually thrown something large and heavy at her, possibly a bowl, making Zoe drop all the clothes. She had always waited until she was sure Dinadan was out of his rooms before returning his clothes after that.

Another thing about delivering clothes in the morning was the additional risk of running into their…companions. Most of the knights seemed to have a few special friends who apparently took turns in sharing their beds. Lancelot, in particular, had lots of these. After running into three in one week exiting Lancelot's room, Zoe decided that even if the man was the hottest guy she'd ever seen in her life, she would not get involved with him even if, by some incredible chance, he did ask her to his bed. He was incredibly attractive, his personality was almost magnetic and his voice was undeniably sexy, but running into his past conquests on a nearly daily basis was enough to turn anyone off the idea of sleeping with him. What the hell was he trying to prove by sleeping with all these women anyway?

She'd complained of this to her friends once she'd returned to the comparative safety of the laundry room. 'I bet he's just trying to prove that even though he's got a tiny penis he's still the biggest man out there,' Zoe snapped, sitting down rather huffily after yet another encounter with one of Lancelot's lady friends.

Liliana and Blanchefleur burst out laughing, but Evelyn was scandalized by Zoe's blatant disrespect for Lancelot and casual nature towards sex.

'Zoe! You shouldn't say things like that!' Evelyn was blushing, which only made Liliana and Blanchefleur laugh harder.

'Well I just ran into another of his lady friends today. And it's just past noon!' Zoe complained, picking up a tunic from the pile of clothes on the floor and accepting the needles and thread.

'The man's not at all modest about who he sleeps with,' Liliana said disapprovingly.

'Not about the number, anyway. I doubt he knows half of their names,' Zoe agreed.

'You're wrong there - he always asks for the name and marital status of any of his women before taking them to bed,' Lucia said.

'You know this how?' Liliana asked, stopping her mending to look at Lucia suspiciously.

'What are you saying, Liliana? That Lucia slept with Lancelot? She said Percival was her first and she was married soon after,' Evelyn protested.

'You're so naive. Of course I slept with him. And, you're actually wrong about his size. He's not small at all, he's…sharing his gifts with the female population rather than trying to prove a point,' Lucia retorted without looking up from her work.

Blanchefleur's mouth was wide open and Evelyn was blushing again. Liliana was staring at Lucia with something close to disbelief and Lucia was calmly sewing. Zoe took it all in and started laughing. The tableau was just too funny.

'That settles it. Even if he asks me, I'm not going to bed with him,' Zoe declared.

'Well if he asks, send him my way. I'll be more than happy to oblige him again,' Lucia said.

Zoe had shaken her head wryly, and Evelyn and Blanchefleur had started to lecture her about how you should save yourself for your husband or your true love while everyone finished their work.

'It does bring up the question, though,' Liliana said as she walked a little way towards Braewyn's house with Zoe, both shivering a little in the harsh wind. 'Which knight would you give yourself to?' Her eyes were shining with mischief and her smile was carefree and easy and Zoe realized she was a little jealous of Liliana's untroubled life. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Goodbye!' Zoe called, waving to her Liliana. Who would she 'give herself to'? There were more important things for her to be thinking about now! Like, perhaps, the fact that her feet were really cold and the bottom of her dress was soaked because of the mud and snow and that there was, as far as Zoe knew, no meat in their house. Oh, and the storm that was currently threatening to break over her head. Things like that were more important than which of Arthur's knights she would hypothetically sleep with.

But it was good to think about it, nonetheless.

Zoe had returned home, only to be greeted with an empty wicker basket and a handful of coins.

'We need meat, Zoe, preferably a lot of it while we can afford it. Could you please get it? As much as you can carry, please and we can dry and salt it for the winter. I have to help this person now,' Braewyn had asked, gesturing vaguely behind her to indicate the customer inside.

Zoe was used to these demands; people seemed to come quite regularly to Braewyn's house to get headache cures, potions for colds and flu, and, more frequently than Zoe would have thought, herbs that caused abortion. The customers inevitably liked their privacy and she tried to be discrete; after all it wasn't as though she didn't have secrets of her own.

'How long should I be out for?'

'By the time you get back from the market, they'll be gone. You just came home at an inconvenient time, now shoo and come back quickly, there's going to be a storm.'

Zoe nodded and started to walk quickly toward the village market. Her objections to meat had faded as the temperature dropped. Now it was cold enough that it ensured that any meat stored in their house would stay free of rot and since her campaign against the mice and rats was apparently very successful, nothing would get nibbled before it was stored properly. Now she just had to go get the meat from the regular butcher, Daman, and go home.

Hopefully before the weather got too much more threatening. Zoe glanced up at the rapidly darkening clouds and sped up, dodging through the normal crowd at the market. Apparently there were many people trying to buy food before the market closed; and it was closing rapidly. Already Zoe could see that several stalls had shut down. Beginning to jog and avoiding the patrol she could see shivering in their uniforms, she was careful to stay away from the spears and the possibility of running into Gaius Ledipus again.

Thankfully by the time she reached the spot where Daman usually was, his stall was still open. 'Daman!' Zoe called out, arriving slightly of breath at his stall. The man was packing up his remaining meat to sell again tomorrow. Yuck. Good thing she caught him today.

'Hello there. You need meat?' Daman was incredibly friendly, but that was just for business. People didn't haggle as hard if they liked you. But the same worked both ways and Zoe was one of Daman's favourite customers and usually got a better deal than most.

'Yes, Braewyn sent me over to buy some for us,' Zoe smiled winningly at him. 'What do you have?'

'For you, I have anything.' Yes, Daman was friendly. Sometimes he crossed the line into too friendly, though. He offered a few inferior cuts of meat, which Zoe had learned to recognize and reject, before showing Zoe the good stuff. After a few precious minutes of haggling, Zoe got a price that was closer to what she wanted than what Daman had initially demanded and was happy enough with it. Daman handed the nearly frozen meat to her and bid her goodbye as he returned to packing up his stall.

Not all of the meat fit into her basket and she was forced to balance it rather precariously, but her experience with carrying large piles of clothes ready to topple made carrying the purchase much easier.

Zoe smiled and waved to him goodbye, but shortly afterwards the snow started coming down. The people in the marketplace moved faster, everyone hurrying towards their home.

'Hello Zoe, do you need any help home?' A loud, familiar voice rang out. It was Gawain, striding up like a man on a mission, ignoring the snow crunching around his boots and falling around him. 'Seems to be rather a lot of meat for such a little person, do you really eat that much?'

Zoe blushed at the attention the knight attracted to himself. He was the only man with hair as fair as his at the Wall, let alone its startling length. And on top of all that, he was a knight, one of Arthur's knights. There were stories about him flying all over the Wall and through the village. And here he was talking quite casually to Zoe about the amount of meat she was capable of consuming.

'In all fairness, it is for Braewyn also,' Zoe answered with a little smile, looking up hesitantly.

'I notice you do not dispute your smallness,' Gawain grinned again. He must be in a good mood for some reason. Unlike everyone else he didn't seem disturbed in the slightest by the snow falling all around them, getting harder and more like ice now than the pleasant soft fall it had been moments ago.

'I cannot say I am not short-I do not even reach your shoulder.'

'Here, give me some of that. I'm heading that way myself, the least I can do is help.' Gawain snatched some of the meat before Zoe could protest.

'I highly doubt you are going this way, you do not have to do this, Sir,' Zoe protested.

'The tavern's this way.' Gawain would not listen to any of Zoe's objections that Braewyn's house was out of his way and instead laughed it off.

The pair of them reached Braewyn's house, having passed the walk in more or less companionable silence through the growing storm. As they'd passed the tavern Zoe had looked up and raised her eyebrows and Gawain had winked, but kept a straight face. Zoe was happy that Gawain was walking her home as the wind grew more violent, the snow flew down harder and Zoe became prone to stumbling. Gawain's footsteps gave her an easier path and he was a good windbreak.

Braewyn seemed rather startled to see one of Arthur's famous knights holding her meat when Zoe knocked on the door, and had immediately checked that he didn't need any medical attention.

'No, I'm fine. I expect to see you sometime later with my clothes, Zoe.' The man winked again, handed the little old woman the meat and turned to leave.

'Thank you. I know you went out of your way,' Zoe said.

'What are friends for, huh?' Gawain waved goodbye and walked away into the storm.

Now, what was it Zoe had been thinking about before Braewyn had sent her out? Which knight would she hypothetically speak with? Zoe shook her head, both amused and annoyed at herself for answering that question in her mind. There were more important, if less pleasant, things to think about. Anyway, it would never happen.

xxx

A/N: Not quite as fast with this chapter as I was with the last one. I officially hate school and am so glad that I finish forever at the end of November. Anyway, here's Zoe and an abundance of knights. Yes, there are non-movie knights in here, but I've set this piece about ten years before the movie, so there's going to be more of them than there are in the movie. So, basically, brace yourself for future character death.

As always, thanks to my beta for being awesome (not to mention her mad wiki skillz). Homeric is an absolute star!

And again, reviews are appreciated, if Zoe's become Sue-ish _please_ tell me. If the knights are OOC, same again. To all my reviewers (particularly the regular ones) thanks a million. I love you guys!

Disclaimer: Don't own, not mine etc.


	11. Merry Christmas

**11. Merry Christmas**

The snow got deeper and deeper as the winter wore on. Zoe was up to mid-calf as she walked to her work in the Sarmatian building of the Roman fort. At least in there, and on the cart track leading to it, the snow was worn down to slush and she could walk more easily. It was easy to fall when the drifts were deep.

One morning while walking along, half-asleep and breathing on her fingers in a vain attempt to warm them and shivering a little despite the thick woollen dress and cloak she wore, she'd tripped over something jutting out from the ground.

'Fuck!' Zoe cried out. The snow was bloody cold! It was melting on her dress, and she knew from her own experience that this dress took forever to dry. Her cloak, never the most convenient garment, was twisted around her neck and dragging on the ground.

She tried to get up as quickly as she could to get out of the snow, but she tripped on the hem on her dress. Damn thing came down to her ankles! What she wouldn't give for tracksuit pants and decent snow boots. The cloak was useless at keeping out the cold and her dress was getting absolutely soaked! Before she could make another attempt at getting upright, she was hauled to her feet by a strong hand around her arm.

'Ow! What'd you do that for?' Zoe's complaint died in her throat as she saw exactly who had pulled her out of the snow.

'You looked like you needed help.' _Tristan_. And he was still bloody scary. And today he had a dead rabbit in his hand. How charming.

'Th-thank you,' Zoe stammered out.

He nodded to her and walked off without another word in the direction of the fort, shaggy hair obscuring his face. _What the hell? _Zoe thought. Sure, she often saw the knight on her walks to her work, however never before had he helped her, or even acknowledged her. And he was still terribly frightening. There was something threatening about him, even when he was helping her out of the slush. But perhaps that was because he had half-yanked her arm off just before.

Zoe attempted to stop her cloak from strangling her; it was hanging to the side and cutting off her air supply.

She struggled onwards, trying to walk in Tristan's footsteps, at least until the snow turned to slush when Zoe reached the cart tracks that led to the Roman fort. She met Liliana around halfway to the fort.

'Zoe, why are you all wet?' Liliana asked, a frown creasing her face.

'I fell over. Twice.' Zoe flapped her skirt a few times in a vain attempt to dry it out. She shivered at the slap of wet wool across her legs and the rush of bitterly cold air she accidentally let in between her dress and her skin. 'Oh, I will be so happy when spring comes and I feel properly warm again.'

'It's not even midwinter yet, Zoe! Poor you, you'll freeze that way, I'm absolutely sure of it. Quick, we'll hurry.'

And they did hurry, but by the time Zoe had reached the fort she was shivering violently, despite the fast pace they'd been walking at. Today had got to be one of the coldest days in all history, Zoe was sure of it. And, just to make things better for her, the wind was picking up and making Zoe even colder.

Together, Zoe and Liliana dashed through the door of the building that housed the knights.

'Oh, you're cold through! We need to get you somewhere warm, Zoe,' Liliana exclaimed, once she saw Zoe's chattering teeth and shaking hands. 'We've got to act quickly, before you catch cold.'

'Y-you don't get c-colds from being cold,' Zoe said through her trembling. It was freezing! Absolutely freezing.

'Oh, Zoe, you're soaked!' It was Blanchefleur, as loud as ever. 'You must be freezing!' She had come up from the laundry, so her cloak was discarded, but she appeared to be carrying it in her hands.

'Stating the obvious, B-Blanchefleur,' Zoe snapped.

'Good thing I've got a blanket for you, then, isn't it?' She said, just as snappishly, throwing what Zoe had mistaken for her cloak at the shivering girl.

'How did you know she'd need it?' Liliana asked as she removed Zoe's wet cloak.

'Sir Tristan said she might need it,' Blanchefleur replied, helping Zoe tuck the blanket around her.

'Since when do you talk to Sir Tristan?' Liliana asked as they walked towards the laundry.

'I was just down there,' Blanchefleur gestured down a corridor Zoe had never gone down before, 'in the kitchens, talking with my cousin. Sir Tristan gave Cook a rabbit and told me to get Zoe a blanket.'

'Oh.' Zoe felt warmer, suddenly.

'Something you wish to tell us, Zoe?' Liliana teased, shaking Zoe's shoulders gently.

'No!'

'Oh, stop teasing her and let's get to work. I'm supposed to be making Sir Percival a new tunic and I need to finish it this week!' Blanchefleur dragged them both even faster towards the laundry, where Zoe could crouch over a brazier and, hopefully, dry off a little before facing the cold weather again.

'How do you make a new tunic?' Zoe asked. She'd watched Braewyn make her winter dresses, but she couldn't make sense of how the material fit together, or how to make it fit right.

'Why do you want to know?' Liliana asked as they took their customary places in the laundry, to wait and warm their fingers before Evelyn and Lucia arrived.

'I want to make Braewyn a present, to thank her for taking care of me,' Zoe replied. And, although she couldn't explain to her friends, it would be a Christmas present for the old woman. There was no real Christmas celebration as she knew it, but Zoe had decided she would feel terrible if she let it go past without marking it in some significant way.

'I'd suggest a cloak-or maybe mittens. Useful now and easy to make. I don't think you're up to making something like a dress now,' Blanchefleur said.

'Who's not up to making a dress now? Zoe? Of course you can't make a dress on your first try.' That was Evelyn. 'A cloak, perhaps? They're much simpler to fit than anything else.'

'That was Blanchefleur's suggestion, too,' Zoe said. 'Would somebody show me how? I have enough saved for the material.'

'I suppose I could show you how,' Blanchefleur offered.

'And I can help you get material,' Lucia said, smoothly joining the conversation the instant she arrived, taking her typical seat and warming her fingers over the brazier for a moment. 'My husband has to be good for something.'

'Lucia-he cares for you and protects you. Be grateful,' Evelyn scolded.

'If it wasn't for the stupid Roman laws I wouldn't need protecting,' Lucia scoffed. 'Anyway, come with me after work and I'll help you find some material in my husband's store.'

'Thank you,' Zoe said, pulling the blanket tighter around her and picking up a shirt as Evelyn and Liliana went to heat water to wash the dirty clothes that had been sent down. Lucia and Zoe started to work on the pile of clothes in need of mending. It was just as big now as it had been in the summer - apparently working with sharp objects resulted in the destruction of a large number of garments whatever the season. Blanchefleur was humming tunelessly as she began sewing together pieces of drab green cloth.

After a while sitting together in a comfortable silence, Lucia looked up and frowned at Zoe.

'What is it?' Zoe asked.

'Why are you wearing a blanket?'

Lucia was still making jokes about that later that day, when all their work was finished and they had collected their pay from Jols.

'I'll see you tomorrow, and I'll show you how to make that cloak,' Blanchefleur called and bounded away through the snow. Evelyn and Liliana said goodbye a little more conventionally, and both also offered to help Zoe make the cloak.

Lucia led Zoe to a shop in the centre of town. It was larger than most, and was, unusually enough for this village, made of stone and two stories high.

'I live here-up above the shop. Now, maybe we can find something nice. You said it was a present for Braewyn, yes?' Lucia opened the door and Zoe was confronted by row upon row of cloth, of all different types and colours. But purple was strangely absent.

'You don't have purple,' Zoe said.

'Do you have any idea how expensive it is?' Lucia demanded, reaching for a bolt of grey cloth. 'What do you think of this?'

Zoe reached out and felt it. It was thick and soft and, when Zoe stretched it and poked at it a bit, seemed to be fairly strong. 'I don't know much about cloth, Lucia. You tell me, is it good?'

'Would I have suggested it if it weren't?' Lucia sniffed.

'Sorry, sorry. I bow to your knowledge, my lady.'

'So you should. It's a thick, warm, strong and will last a long time. Also, it's within your means, so I'd suggest this one.' Lucia stroked the fabric. 'You'll need quite a bit of it, shall I cut it for you?'

'Yes, thank you, for helping me,' Zoe said.

'It's not for you, it's business,' Lucia said, but the smile she gave Zoe as she walked away after paying for the cloth said differently. 'Bring it tomorrow and Blanchefleur will help you make a cloak.'

Making it was both more difficult and easier than Zoe had expected. Cutting the cloth precisely and with the right measurements was something she had not thought would be hard, but it turned out that a good cloak was more intricate than she had previously thought. But the work of putting the pieces together was easy, if time consuming: particularly after all the time she had spent sewing over the last few months.

The hardest part was actually keeping it a secret from Braewyn, particularly as Christmas got closer and closer and Zoe needed more time to work on it. It wasn't as if it was easy, carrying around a whole cloak and trying to conceal it from people. Zoe ended up leaving the thing at the laundry while she put the finishing touches on it.

And no sooner had she finished it, with the enthusiastic help of Blanchefleur, than Evelyn commented that the mass to celebrate the birth of Christ was tomorrow evening.

'And that means Yule is tomorrow night!' Blanchefleur said, looking startled and worried for some reason.

'You will be coming to the mass, Zoe?' Evelyn asked, gripping Zoe's hand in hers. 'Please?'

'Yes, I'll be coming,' Zoe replied. Zoe had, for as long as she could remember, gone to the Christmas service of Church, at first because her parents dragged her, then to remember her grandmother. Just because she was hundreds of years in the past didn't mean she had to break that tradition.

'And you'll come to Yule afterwards, yes? Yule starts when the sun goes down, but it goes all night, so you won't have to worry about missing out on anything,' Lucia said.

'Yes, I'll come,' Zoe said, a little more hesitantly.

'And this time, I will make you dance!' Blanchefluer cried.

'How do you plan to do that? By throwing her at someone?' Liliana asked. She'd been ill recently, and was quieter than usual, although the glow was returning to her cheeks.

'I'll find a way,' Blanchefleur threatened. 'Will you be coming this year?' She asked Liliana.

'Yes, I think so. I can't go to the mass because my parents are holding a celebration and inviting some legionaries they want me to meet, but they have said if I behave myself I will be allowed to go to Yule afterwards,' Liliana smiled wanly, stitching shut a gaping tear in one of Galahad's shirts.

'Oh, poor you, Liliana. I hope they're nice,' Evelyn said, patting her friend on the shoulder.

'So your parents are at it again. Parading you like a side of meat. What else did you expect?' Lucia asked, not disturbed at all by the glares that came from Liliana and Evelyn.

'Wait, your parents are inviting legionaries over so that they can do what exactly?' Zoe interrupted, before either Evelyn or Liliana could say anything.

'My parents want me to get married, Zoe, you know this. And, since I have apparently failed to find a suitable partner on my own, they think it's time for them to help me out.'

'Gross!' Zoe exclaimed.

'Actually, it's rather normal,' Blanchefleur said. 'My father's introduced me to so many men, but none of them were right.'

'Maybe they'd be right if you got your head out of the clouds and stopped dreaming of Sir Percival,' Lucia snapped.

'You're just jealous!' Blanchefleur said, tossing her hair back over her shoulders.

'At least I've had him,' Lucia snarled back. 'Because he hasn't looked at you once!'

Before it could get out of hand, Evelyn stepped in, as she usually did. 'Do you have your eye on anyone. Liliana?' Gossip like this was always enough to divert Blanchefleur from any other conversation, unless it was about Percival.

Liliana grinned, but shook her head. 'No, I'm afraid not. Although Blanchefleur's cousin was trying to convince me to take a detour with him a week or so ago.'

'What? Why didn't I hear about this?' Blanchefleur asked, definitely distracted from the argument that had been building.

'Because I don't like him at all,' Liliana answered. 'He's got pimples, he smells terrible and even though he knows nothing about me, he won't stop asking me to his bed.'

'You have to admit, Blanchefleur, that doesn't sound too nice,' Zoe laughed and got up to check if the clothes Liliana and Evelyn had washed earlier that day were dry.

At the end of the day, Zoe took the cloak that she'd made for Braewyn back to their house. There was no work tomorrow, Liliana had said, because the Romans had a celebration on the same day, so if Zoe was to give Braewyn the cloak, she'd have to bring it home that night. She'd give the cloak to Braewyn tonight, as it would be impossible to conceal it from her. They lived together and it wasn't as if there was much storage space. Pegs on the wall held Zoe's dresses and cloaks, and pegs lower down held her stockings. No underwear (which had taken some getting used to) and no shirts, skirts, trousers or anything else in the hosue. Zoe wasn't even sure where the trousers and t-shirt she'd worn on her arrival had gone anymore. So there wasn't much space to hide a new cloak, particularly if it was meant to be a surprise gift.

'Braewyn?' Zoe asked, hesitant and a little unsure of the welcome her gift would receive.

'What is it, Zoe?' Braewyn asked, looking up and smiling, beckoning Zoe in. Braewyn was cooking dinner, stirring a pot full of stew by the fire.

'Where I come from, it's a tradition that, on the day Jesus was born, we give presents to our family and other people we…love.' Zoe shifted uncomfortably, moving a little closer to the fire. 'We call it Christmas. And…well…happy Christmas.' Zoe handed the cloak to Braewyn, who was sitting somewhat shocked by the fire. What if Braewyn didn't like it? What if the old woman laughed at her?

The old woman took the cloak and held it up. 'Oh, Zoe.' She sounded like she was about to cry.

'I'm sorry if you don't like it, I really am, but I just thought-'

'It's wonderful, Zoe. I…I don't know what to say.' She was crying now, tears spilling out of her eyes and down her weathered old cheeks. She got up and hugged Zoe tightly, squeezing the air out of her.

Tears prickled Zoe's own eyes then, and words started spilling out of Zoe's mouth; she just couldn't stop them. 'You've been so good to me, and you didn't have to be, but you went out of your way for me, and you helped me and you made me stop being scared of everything and you made this place like home for me and thank you so much and…'

Zoe was overcome by sobs and she couldn't continue, but she clung to the old woman as hard as she could, crying from a mix of emotions-happiness, relief, love, sadness and, for some reason, she felt as if she'd lost something important.

And while she was crying in Braewyn's herb-scented embrace, she realized that she thought of this cottage, this leaky, smoky, dingy house, as home. She'd lost her old home now. She'd stopped thinking about how she could go home, how she could get out of here. Instead she was thinking about Yule, about how she wanted to fix the leaks in the roof in spring, about which knights or village men may make good partners, and about earning her way in this life.

The pair of them didn't move until a strange burning smell alerted the two of them that dinner was not just ready, but had been for a while. Zoe laughed and pulled back from the embrace, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. When she cried, her nose tended to run as well as her eyes. No dramatically beautiful crying for Zoe, no, she ended up looking like a Snot Monster.

'Could you get the bowls, Zoe?' Braewyn asked, back to her usual calm self despite the tear-tracks on her face and they had a peaceful night together, talking about the little things they'd both done. _It's like family_, Zoe thought as she snuggled next to Braewyn in the smelly furs, murmuring sleepily that they'd have to wash them soon and falling asleep before Braewyn's answer reached her.

xxx

The next day was surprisingly dull. She'd woken up early, as she'd become used to, before realizing she didn't need to actually get up. Then she'd rolled over and went back to sleep, a luxury she hadn't been able to indulge in since she started to work at the Roman fort.

It was properly light when Zoe actually got up. She said Merry Christmas to Braewyn, had a breakfast of a rather wrinkly apple and bread and got dressed. Zoe decided that today she'd go to the proper baths, which were still open and delightfully warm, even in winter, so she fished out the money she needed to pay the bath house attendant and took some of Braewyn's lavender scented soap.

Zoe loved the baths and spent so long in the hottest pool that her skin was pink and wrinkly when she got out. But at least she smelled nice, and her hair was back to normal. It was quite long now, and Zoe had to tie it up in a messy bun before it dripped all over her clothes and froze her on her way back to Braewyn's house.

She spent the rest of the day lazing around, waiting for Evelyn to come and get her to go to Church. Lazing around, Zoe decided, was really boring. There was only so much to do, and she ended up going for a walk for a few hours to pass the time.

When she got back, she helped Braewyn cook dinner early, as there would apparently be lots to eat at Yule that night, and just after they'd finished cleaning it up there was a knock on the door.

'Evelyn!' Zoe opened the door to her friend, who had a parcel in her hands and was dressed in a much prettier dress than the one she usually wore. 'You look nice.'

Zoe was suddenly conscious of her work-worn, drab attire but Evelyn just smiled brilliantly at her.

'Here, I have something for you, from me, Liliana, Lucia and Blanchefleur.' She handed the parcel to Zoe and waited expectantly for her to open it.

Zoe pulled off the string tie and pulled away the cloth covering it eagerly. 'Oh, Evelyn!' Zoe pulled out a gorgeous green dress and held it against herself. 'It's beautiful! Why would you get something like this for me?'

'We guessed you didn't have anything nice to wear tonight. Actually, it was Lucia's suggestion, although if you tell her I told you that, I'd be killed.' Evelyn smiled. 'Put it on, we all want to see if we got it right. It's hard to make dresses without measurements, but Blanchefleur's not known as the best seamstress around for nothing.'

Zoe retreated to the corner of the house were her other dresses were hanging on pegs and, after checking to make sure Evelyn and Blanchefleur weren't watching (they were, in fact, having a discussion about the cloth of Zoe's dress) and stripped, shivering in the cold air.

She pulled on the new dress. It was more beautiful than anything she'd worn in a long time. It was warm, yes, and made of wool to be practical, but the colour was gorgeous and it fit just right.

'Oh, good, it fits!' Evelyn said when Zoe walked timidly over to the two other women. 'Turn around for a second,' she instructed, and pulled the ties at the back tighter than Zoe had had them done. 'There. Get your cloak!'

Zoe frowned down at the new way the dress was tied. It now clung to her body, but she was surprised that she didn't mind too much. She still had wide hips and a bit of a stomach on her, but she thought she probably looked better now than she ever had.

She grabbed her cloak, made of thick, brown cloth, and wrapped it around herself. 'Ready?' Zoe asked Evelyn.

'Good, let's go. We don't want to be late,' she said, and walked out of the house.

'I'll be at the Yule celebrations, Zoe, so don't worry about me,' Braewyn said, shooing Zoe out the door.

Zoe smiled and waved goodbye to the old woman, and followed her friend to the church.

It was more crowded than Zoe had ever seen it before, but then, she supposed she hadn't been to a proper mass, despite having been to the services. It was lit up and Zoe felt a twinge of trepidation as they walked up the stairs. A priest in full ceremonial robes was standing there, welcoming everyone as they entered the church.

'Welcome, my children,' he said to the two girls as they reached the doors, smiling benevolently at them and gesturing inside.

Inside was more beautiful than Zoe could have imagined. The dark wooden crucifix was surrounded by candles, and more light was given from torches that flared along the walls of the building. The gorgeously painted scenes of Christ's life that were on wooden screens behind the altar were lit up brilliantly by the firelight as opposed to covered with cloth. The chalice for mass was gleaming gold and the large Bible was resting open next to it. Holly, mistletoe and evergreen tree boughs were also set up around the Church. Zoe had never seen the Church decorated like this, and she thought it was more beautiful than even her church in the future.

Evelyn directed Zoe to a pew near the back and together they waited quietly for the service to begin, letting the gentle hum of the congregation pass over them.

'Can you see Arthur Castus?' Evelyn whispered suddenly, jabbing Zoe's ribs with her elbow.

Zoe looked where Evelyn was pointing to see that it was, indeed, Arthur Castus, dressed in clothes Zoe had seen occasionally when they had been brought down for laundering. 'Yes, why?'

'He's amazing, isn't he? I'm glad he found the time to come. The knights are leaving on a mission in two days, my father said, and Arthur's got a reputation for working too hard.'

'He's only doing what he has to,' Zoe defended him. 'He's doing his best for his men, doing his duty to them.'

'But he's also got a duty to God,' Evelyn whispered.

'Should that duty be more important than the one to the living?'

'It's his immortal soul I'm worried about,' Evelyn replied. 'Now shush, mass is starting.'

The service began when an old priest started reading from the Bible of the birth of Jesus, and Zoe thought it was very strange to hear familiar words in a different language.

The celebration was more formal and ritualistic than Zoe had ever experienced before, and it gave a feeling of great solemnity to the occasion, impressing upon Zoe the absolute importance of this event to these people. The service culminated with Communion, with the wafer being fed to Zoe from the hands of a priest. The familiarity of it made Zoe's heart twist a little, and she suddenly, desperately missed her old home. When the priest invited them to recite the Lord's Prayer, Zoe said the words along with the rest of the congregation, trying not to cry.

'For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever,' Zoe whispered as the congregation was dismissed, waiting until most of the people were gone before attempting to leave. Evelyn had hugged her goodbye, but had had to run off to join her family as soon as the priest ended the service.

She'd made it out the door, thanked the priest on her way out, and was walking down the stairs when she heard someone calling her name from the direction of the Church.

'Zoe! Would you give me a moment of your time?'

It was Arthur Castus, commander of the Sarmatian knights, future King of Britain, walking down the Church stairs, dressed in a wine-red tunic that Zoe herself had mended once and all Zoe could think was 'Why would a man like this want to talk to me?'

xxx

A/N: Got the chapter up a bit earlier than I thought I would (thank God for school holidays, even if it's the last day of them for me), so I hope you all enjoy!

As always, please tell me if Zoe is heading Mary-Sue direction, or if the knights seem OOC. Reviews are always loved!

To my reviewers, thank you so much! You're a great bunch of people and I'm happy you're enjoying it. To Homeric, my wonderful beta-you are brilliant, thanks for everything!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.


	12. Yule

**12. Yule**

'Would you give me a moment of your time?' Arthur asked seriously, walking down the stairs to greet Zoe.

The crowd still milling around the Church stairs parted around him like the Red Sea, but he didn't seem to notice. Zoe, though, felt the weight of the stares like a ton of bricks and wanted nothing more than to get out of the limelight and find her friends at Yule.

'You want to speak to me, sir?' She squeaked nervously. Normally, the only person she'd call sir was the insanely strict headmaster of the school she had attended. She was startled, puzzled and a little frightened at Arthur's request. Pulling her cloak tighter about her, she waited for Arthur, nervously glancing around at the people pretending to have conversations just close enough to hear what was going on.

'You are not in any trouble, I promise.' Arthur smiled briefly, putting his hand on Zoe's shoulder. 'There were two things I wanted to talk to you about. Firstly it occurred to me that I never told you what happened to the caravan you were travelling with when we found you,' Arthur said. 'Or apologized for our lateness.'

'It's fine, Braewyn told me what happened,' Zoe reassured him, darting glances around at the people staring at them and trying to avoid looking into his startlingly vibrant eyes. He was intimidating even if he was kind. And this conversation was gathering rather more attention than she liked.

'Nevertheless, I would like to apologize. I would have done so earlier, but I must admit I forgot all about it. Seeing you here tonight made me realize the disservice I had done to you, and I would like to make amends,' Arthur insisted.

Zoe was flattered that he thought her worth the trouble, and humbled by his offer. 'Sir, you don't have to do anything for me,' Zoe stammered, blushing when he studied her in silence.

'If you say so,' Arthur said, bowing his head to her. 'I might have failed to protect your caravan, but I will not fail to protect you in this place. You have my word.' He looked at her with his amazing green eyes.

'I never thought you wouldn't,' Zoe said. It wasn't strictly true, but it felt like the right thing to say. She couldn't meet Arthur's eyes, though, and she felt the heat in her cheeks that meant she was blushing. 'The other thing, sir?'

'I'm aware it sounds strange, but could you run an errand for me?'

Zoe blinked, startled by the request. 'What sort of errand, sir?'

'You still live with Braewyn, yes? Could you tell her that Marius ran out of dittany, henbane and feverfew and ask her to bring some to Lamorak before my knights leave?'

'How much would you like, sir?' Zoe asked, relieved that it wasn't actually her Arthur wanted, and all she had to do was to remember to tell Braewyn to provide the knights with three herbs.

'Braewyn will know. She gets requests like this quite a bit.'

'Dittany, henbane and feverfew, the usual amounts by the time you leave,' Zoe summarized, eager to get out of the scrutiny of the crowd that was not-so-sneakily eavesdropping on them. 'Was that all, sir?'

Arthur smiled and replied that, yes, it was all, and to have a good time at the festival before turning and walking off. The people in his path just melted away while Zoe was left feeling entirely overwhelmed from the short conversation and a little weak at the knees from the force of his presence. He was attractive, intelligent, honourable and had been talking to her and asking what he could do for her. He was like a King to these people already, and he would be a King in truth one day, and he'd been talking to her.

Zoe let out a sigh of relief and started ducking through the crowd, some of who called out to her, trying to get her to stop and tell them what Arthur had wanted her for. Zoe snorted. As if they hadn't overheard, she thought. Someone grabbed her arm but she shook who ever it was off angrily. She had to get to Braewyn before she forgot what she was supposed to say.

'Dittany, henbane and feverfew,' Zoe murmured, 'usual amounts, before the knights leave.'

It wasn't very long before Zoe arrived at the Yule celebrations. They were on the edge of the village, but not at the stone circle. There was an oval of torches that Zoe thought looked around the size of an athletics track and in the middle there was another fire. As Zoe got closer, and music and laughter reached her ears, she saw that it was one log. One very big log blazing, its light casting enough light to rival any bonfire.

Zoe scanned the crowd, looking for a hunched figure with white hair. She spied pale hair amongst the dancers, but it was most definitely not Braewyn. Braewyn couldn't move like that, for one thing, and neither was she a man. It was Gawain, dancing with the baker's daughter, a very pretty, very friendly girl called Iona. Zoe stopped for a second and watched Gawain dance. He was…none of her business at the moment.

'Feverfew, dittany and henbane, the usual amounts, for the knights before they leave.' Zoe thought she must look a little strange talking to herself as she wandered around the outskirts of the celebrations. Zoe shook her head and kept looking for Braewyn, although on her walk around the outside of the torch circle, she did glance back at Gawain. He was still dancing with Iona, despite the song changing and a different tune being played by the group of musicians.

Braewyn was on the opposite side of the torch circle, standing stiffly, well wrapped up and talking with a woman Zoe vaguely recognized as a frequent customer of hers. By the time Zoe reached her, Braewyn had said goodbye to the woman and was turning to greet Zoe.

'Zoe! You are later than I expected you to be. I didn't know Christan mass went for so long,' Braewyn said as she hugged the girl.

'I was held up a little,' Zoe explained. 'Arthur asked me to run an errand for him.'

'Really? Well I hope you've done it. Your friend, Blanchefleur, is quite impatient for you to dance.'

'I had to ask you to send the usual amounts of dittany, henbane and feverfew to the knights before they leave in two days,' Zoe said.

Braewyn looked a little surprised. 'I'm surprised he sent you with this message. It's the lives of the knights you just gave me, Zoe, they rely on these herbs to live and heal. Are you absolutely sure of the herbs? And the amount?' Braewyn's face was more intense than Zoe had seen it before, except possibly when she had been talking with Tristan as she sewed his chest up.

'Yes, I'm sure,' Zoe answered. 'If it's so important, why send it with me?'

'You've run errands for knights before, you were available, he is too busy to come himself and cannot find Jols? I do not know what he is thinking, Zoe, but enough of that. The Blanchefleur girl and Lucia are over there,' Braewyn pointed about a third of the way around the circle, to a table piled with food and two barrels of ale sitting on either side of it.

'What about you? What if you need me?' Zoe asked, torn between having fun with her friends and looking after the grandmotherly old woman.

'I think I am perfectly able to move around by myself, Zoe. Have fun. Shoo!'

Zoe was off like a rocket, thanking Braewyn for letting her go and dashing around to greet Blanchefleur and Lucia.

'Zoe!' Blanchefleur saw her and ran over to sweep her up in a hug. Even if Blanchefleur was roughly three years younger than Zoe, she was considerably taller, so she was able to pick Zoe up and swing her around. She seemed even more exuberant than usual and Zoe could smell some ale in her breath.

'Happy Yule!' Lucia said once Zoe had steadied herself after being put down by Blanchefleur.

'Happy Yule, Lucia. Happy Yule, Blanchefleur,' Zoe returned the greeting.

'Happy Yule, Zoe! Now come, have some ale!' Blanchefleur pulled Zoe over in the direction of the tables and ale barrels.

'I'd rather have some food first, I'm starving,' Zoe said, choosing a pastry-like object from the table and handing over a couple of coins to the woman who was manning it.

'No fun!' Blanchefleur pouted. 'Come dance, though, come dance!' Blanchefleur's eyes were fixed on Percival, who was dancing with another one of the village girls who Zoe knew by sight but had never been introduced to. _Mind you_, Zoe thought, _being discovered while giving Lancelot a blowjob isn't exactly something that would make me want to introduce myself, either._

'Should she dance with her food? You go on, I'll stay with our poor little helpless Zoe,' Lucia said, shooing off the tipsy girl.

The pair of them watched, Lucia in silence and Zoe nibbling on her pastry; as Blanchefleur was snagged into the dance by a village man, a good five years older than Zoe herself with shaggy dark hair. Blanchefleur laughed and spun with him, the two of them joining the circle of dancers around the fire moving in what looked like a relatively simple sequence of motions.

'Has she gotten Percival, yet?' Zoe asked, not looking away from her friend.

'No,' Lucia replied. 'They haven't danced and she's very disappointed. She went to a lot of effort tonight.'

'Well, she looks good at least,' Zoe said.

'She's drinking to forget her sorrows. If that's not stupid, I don't know what is.'

Zoe agreed and finished her pastry in comfortable silence, the two girls watching the antics of their friend, who was being unusually flirtatious tonight. Not that the man she was dancing with seemed to mind too much. Then Zoe got distracted by a familiar figure moving away from the dance, bowing slightly to his partner as he made his way over to the ale barrels.

It was Gawain; his long hair dishevelled and eyes sparkling as he downed a mug of ale in a single gulp. He apparently didn't notice the surreptitious looks the girls were shooting him, as if they wanted to smack all other competition away from him. He looked around, slightly out of breath from the dancing, and caught sight of Zoe. He grinned and Zoe thought he looked remarkably like a dog who had caught sight of a juicy bone. She felt uncomfortably aware that she might be the aforesaid bone.

'Zoe! I didn't see you as the type to be here,' he said, dropping his empty mug of ale on the food table and walking over to her. 'Why aren't you dancing?'

'I don't know anybody to dance with,' Zoe replied, elbowing Lucia as discreetly as possible when she snorted.

Gawain had undoubtedly seen it as he shot a grin at Lucia, too, before bowing flamboyantly in front of Zoe. 'Will you dance with me, fair lady?' Gawain asked, grinning at Zoe, who was blushing and trying to avoid the angry looks that some of the other girls were shooting at her back.

'B-but I don't know how!' Zoe protested when Gawain, who hadn't waited for an answer, grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the circle of dancers.

'Don't worry. It's simple, here,' Gawain grabbed her hands in his as they joined in. 'Step left, and again, and again, forwards, back, spin right, clap, join hands with me, spin together, clasp hands with the girls next to you and repeat, got it? Good, let's go!'

'Wait!' Zoe protested as she was pushed into the dance. 'What am I supposed to be doing?'

'Relaxing, having fun? Don't worry about it!' Gawain smiled and, as Zoe got better at the steps and stopped bumping in to the women to either side of her, she started to enjoy the dance. Particularly Gawain's company. He kept telling Zoe stories to make her laugh, squeezing her hands when she made a mistake in the dance and grinning at the few comments she ventured to make.

'Do you know you have some of the most beautiful hair I've seen?' he asked as they spun.

'No,' Zoe said, feeling her cheeks flush. 'It's not that beautiful, anyway. Vanora's is nicer.'

'Van's got pretty hair, but yours is so shiny and smooth looking. And it's black. There aren't many people who have black hair here. And theirs is not as straight.'

'It's not uncommon where I come from,' Zoe shrugged. 'I got it from my mother.' Zoe's mother was (still is, Zoe thought fiercely) half-Chinese, and had passed on her hair and height to her daughter. Her father was a German migrant, complete with thick German accent, an oddity in England, and had given Zoe his features, including his fair skin. Nobody could look at Zoe and her father together without realizing they were related.

'I like it,' Gawain stepped back, letting Zoe's hands go, as the dance required. 'It looks better now than it did when you came here. Why cut hair like yours?'

'It was annoying,' Zoe said defensively. 'It took too long to wash, dry, care for. I didn't see the point.'

Gawain raised an eyebrow and tossed his hair as they stepped closer. 'The point is, it makes you feel good. I like long hair.'

'I can see,' Zoe said, daring to tug on a clump of blond hair before stepping back and spinning to the right, grinning back at him.

'Particularly on pretty ladies,' Gawain continued as they stepped closer once more.

'Oh? So I should cut mine short, yes?' Zoe asked playfully, feeling completely at ease with the blond knight. The knowledge that he was a killer was in the back of her mind, but his smile was doing all sorts of things to her heartbeat, her stomach and her ability to blush made it seem unimportant. As did the discussion about hair. Hard to be afraid of a man who was so easily distracted by shiny hair, Zoe thought wryly, deciding that she wouldn't cut it off no matter how annoying it got.

The dance had to end eventually, though, and Zoe joined in with the other dancers in cheering for the musicians. Gawain smiled, said goodbye to Zoe and walked over to Iona. Zoe, puffing a little and warm for the first time since winter began, ignored the little flash of jealousy and managed to find Blanchefleur, sulking near a torch closer to the village.

'How are you?' Zoe asked, knowing the answer, but needing to get it out of her friend.

'Bloody terrible. Percival hasn't even looked at me,' Blanchefleur snapped. 'I've danced with pretty much everyone but him, I even danced with Dinadan and still Percival wouldn't pay attention to me.'

'Don't worry; there's still a lot of time tonight. Didn't you say this goes until dawn?' Zoe nudged Blanchefleur gently, trying to cheer her friend up.

'Remember, Blanchefleur, that the real thing doesn't start until all the children are at home with their parents,' Lucia added, startling Zoe by coming out of the shadows behind them.

'When did you decide to talk to us?' Blanchefleur asked sulkily. She didn't like Lucia much at the best of times and, because she was a little drunk and very angry, this conversation had the potential to be explosive.

'When I heard Dinadan talking about you to Percival,' Lucia replied easily. 'Apparently you were so busy staring at something that you stepped on the poor man's feet a few times during the dance.'

Zoe couldn't hold in a snort of laughter at Blanchefleur's expression.

'Oops?' Blanchefleur said somewhat hesitantly. 'What did he say?'

'Didn't hear,' Lucia shrugged. 'But he knows you exist, if that's what you're worried about.'

'That's so comforting, Lucia. So very comforting,' Blanchefleur snapped. 'I can't take this anymore. Zoe, Lucia, let's go dance. Moon's almost high, we should be having fun, not moping!'

'Who was moping, exactly?' Lucia asked, allowing herself to be dragged into the dance by Blanchefleur. Zoe, much to her regret, was unable to escape due to the Blanchefleur's vice-like grip on her arm. Apparently this was a dance where partners were swapped, and the village man Zoe got the first time (who Blanchefleur had practically thrown her at) was patient and told her the steps before handing her off to the next man, who told her she looked pretty and asked her name.

Zoe just had time to tell him before she was handed to another man, an old one this time, with a scraggly white beard and a pronounced limp, and the man after that was more like a boy and his attempt to grow a beard made Zoe laugh. The man after that was quite fat, but he could still dance better than Zoe could, then she came to Lancelot, who kept trying to dance much closer to her than was strictly necessary and making her blush with his innuendos, and the man after that was nearly as short as she was, albeit with much more muscle and implied that Lancelot was impotent loud enough for him to hear. Apparently this was an old game between the two, as the man was a farrier who worked on Lancelot's horse quite often, as he told Zoe in between making his crude jokes. Then Zoe got Percival, and then another man from the village, the blacksmith, who was almost as clumsy as Zoe was. And they were all smiling and laughing and Zoe could, for the first time, forget the knives they wore at their sides. Rather, the knives seemed insignificant compared to their smiles and open joy to be there.

By the end of the song Zoe was panting with exertion, laughter and had thoroughly enjoyed herself. The clumsy blacksmith asked to partner her in the next dance and she agreed quickly. Together they terrorized the other couples with their mistakes, but it was all in good spirits. Then, the old man with the scraggly beard demanded that the 'young bucks' let a more experienced man show Zoe how to dance. He smelled like goats, and was missing half his teeth, but he could still dance. He managed to teach Zoe the basic village dances, aided by younger men when his limp got too bad for him to continue.

After leaving the dancing to regain her breath and ducking away from the boy with the hilarious wispy beard (the old man's grandson, Zoe had found out), Zoe was very surprised when Percival joined her.

'How are you, Zoe?' he asked, smiling down at her. He still smelled bad, but he appeared to have made an effort to get clean as his shirt was unstained. Percival was notorious for being one of the dirtiest knights, and the only reason his clothes remained as clean as they were was that Blanchefleur was willing to go to extraordinary lengths to make sure they were all clean.

'Surprisingly good,' Zoe replied, remembering how she usually was around groups of people in this time. Even in her own time she hadn't been comfortable in crowds. She remembered a concert she had went to with Brittany (so long ago) where she had started to panic due to the number of people in the mosh pit. Brit had laughed at her, but she hadn't gone to another concert after that.

'Haven't started any fights yet?' Obviously Percival was remembering the same thing, judging by his expression, which had twisted from a pleased smile to a smirk.

'None that I can recall,' Zoe replied tartly, a little embarrassed. She had first met the knight when he had come to her rescue from a tavern brawl she had accidentally started. Not the most auspicious of meetings, and Percival liked reminding her of it whenever they met.

'That's probably a good sign. And I see you've moved beyond hiding under tables.'

'You've humiliated me enough tonight, please don't mention it again!' Zoe begged, cursing the pale skin that showed her blush so clearly. Or, clearly enough to amuse Percival, at least.

'Dance with me?' Percival asked suddenly, holding out his hand.

'I'm absolutely exhausted, I'm sorry.' Zoe genuinely wanted to dance with him, but her feet were aching (the lack of proper support in the boots was beginning to show) and she was still out of breath, there was no way she could dance now. And, anyway, Blanchefleur would kill her if she did.

'Ah. Looks like I'll have to go without a partner for a while then,' Percival sighed.

Zoe caught sight of Blanchefluer standing a little way away, staring at Percival and got an idea. 'If you really want a partner, I can introduce you to a friend of mine,' she offered.

'Is she pretty?' Percival asked, grinning down at Zoe.

'I'm not much of a judge of that. I think she's pretty, but I don't know what men look for in a woman.' Zoe turned away from Percival and beckoned her friend over. 'Percival, do you know Blanchefleur?'

'Nice to meet you,' Percival said, giving Blanchefleur a thorough look-over before holding out his hand. 'Would you like to dance?'

'Yes.' Blanchefleur's response was both immediate and breathless. She smiled widely and, as she was led away by Percival, seemed to be floating rather than walking.

Zoe smiled, mentally congratulating herself for a good idea and tried to sneak away from where she would be noticed and encouraged to dance. While she had discovered that dancing was fun and that the men there were all good partners and not as scary as they looked, she wasn't fit enough to leap around all night.

She ducked out of the torch circle, absently noticing that the moon was on its downward path now. What had Lucia said? _That Yule only started once the parents and children had gone home? What did she mean? _Zoe wondered, watching the dancers inside the light from her place in the shadows.

It seemed the same to her at first, but when she looked closer at the dance she saw that it seemed to involve much more body to body contact than the ones before had. And it seemed more suggestive. Zoe realized she was in the equivalent of a nightclub and couldn't contain her sniggers. _Oh how things would change. _

Zoe caught sight of Blanchefleur among the dancers. She was easy to find; she appeared to be dancing with Percival again. From this distance, she looked like she was smiling, and as he turned the pair of them it looked like he was, too. Dancing not too far away was Lucia, who appeared to be very interested in her current partner judging by how close they appeared to be. Zoe got somewhat of a shock to realize that she was dancing with the clumsy blacksmith she had danced with earlier in the evening.

'Zoe?'

Zoe half-screamed and jumped back, startled by the sudden voice. 'Oh, thank God,' she gasped, looking around and pressing a hand over her heart. 'It's you, Liliana!'

'Who else would it be?' Liliana asked, grabbing Zoe's arm and dragging her back. 'Now, I've come to dance, and you are not going to sulk out here alone. At the very least, listen to me complain about the men my parents paraded me in front of.'

'How bad was it?' Zoe asked, stopping next to a bright torch. From their position they had a good view of Yule log in the centre of the dancers, but were far enough away not to be overheard.

Liliana stopped with her and began talking, gesturing wildly with her hands. 'Well, there was one who got himself terribly drunk before even showing up to my parents' house. He threw up all over the floor and could barely speak. He left after about an hour. Then there was another one who reeked. I mean, he smelled absolutely disgusting, like he'd been rolling around in the stables and exercising in summer! And then there was one who was very charming, very handsome but as thick as a brick. My father asked him what he thought of Arthur Castus and do you know what his response was? 'He's the Commander of the Sarmatian Knights!' How impressive,' Liliana snarled.

'Well, surely your parents see that you don't like any of them and won't force you to marry one of them?' Zoe asked.

'They can do whatever the hell they want. They want me to marry the drunkard, as he, apparently, has the best chance of giving me a good home. I don't want a good home, I want to marry for, if not love, then respect at least.'

'You'll marry someone that you're not in love with voluntarily?' Zoe asked.

'I'm not a fool like Blanchefleur, I don't think that all marriages are about love and getting to love the person you're doomed to spend the rest of your life with. But, much as I like Lucia, I don't want to end up like her. I want a marriage based on something other than trying to spend as much of your time as possible avoiding your husband,' Liliana explained. 'It sounds simple, but…' Liliana's voice trailed off and she stared fixedly at the Yule log.

Zoe didn't know how to comfort her friend and decided to try distraction instead. 'You came to dance, not to sulk about marriage. And who knows? You might find someone out there,' Zoe gestured to the figures dancing, drinking and having a good time all around them. 'Come on, I'll dance if you do.'

Apparently it worked, because Zoe soon found herself being whirled around by a rather drunk Galahad while Liliana was dancing somewhat less wildly with, of all people, Zoe's neighbour Byron. The dance after that, the farrier from earlier in the evening claimed Zoe after introducing himself as Aleron and Lucia mysteriously disappeared with her partner, and Byron asked Liliana to partner him again.

'Thank you, Zoe!' Liliana said as Zoe was spun past by Aleron, who was even more enthusiastic than Galahad had been. Zoe ended up dancing for quite some time with him, mostly to the faster dances, with Aleron making dirty jokes and telling her embarrassing stories about the knights (mostly Lancelot) and some other village people that she knew all the while. Zoe was tired, out of breath, but she had definitely enjoyed herself by the time they paused for breath.

'And then, what do you think he does?' Aleron asked, in the middle of an entertaining story about Bedivere's first time drinking. It had, apparently, involved Bors and Dinadan teaming up to get him drunk, a Roman priest and one of the village dogs.

Zoe couldn't reply, as she was laughing too hard, and she wasn't looking where she was being spun when all of a sudden she collided with a very hard chest and nearly fell, still laughing.

Aleron, though, who had been laughing as hard as she had a few moments ago, was rather more wary of the new arrival. 'Sorry, Sir Tristan,' he said. 'Didn't see you there.'

Zoe looked up, saw that it was Tristan who she had been sent spinning into and tried to stifle her giggles. He didn't look like the sort of man to have much patience for dances and revelry, what with all the scary tattoos on his face and his messy hair, not to mention the knife he had strapped to his hip.

'Jaiyana's got a problem,' Tristan said, ignoring Zoe and concentrating on her partner instead. 'We're leaving in two days and I need her ready.'

'I'll see what I can do,' Aleron replied, becoming serious surprisingly quickly. 'Will you make sure that Zoe gets home without any trouble? I would do it myself, but if I'm to look after Jaiyana…'

Tristan glanced at Zoe, who had succeeded in smothering her laughter and was now looking at the two men with narrowed eyes. 'I'll take her. You go to Jaiyana.'

Aleron nodded and said goodbye to Zoe, moving away from the dwindling crowd of dancers. Blanchefleur was gone, Zoe noticed, as were most of the knights. Gawain was still there, talking near a torch with Iona, and Dinadan, Lamorak and Galahad were stumbling away from the crowd of dancers, loudly bidding goodbye to a group of giggling girls. Lucia had disappeared a while ago with the blacksmith who didn't know how to dance. Liliana was still dancing with Byron, but there were fewer people dancing around the Yule log and Zoe noticed for the first time that the sky was lightening. The sun must be rising, she thought.

Tristan moved to take her arm, but Zoe shrank away. The scout had sounded angry when he had agreed to take her home, and she didn't want to antagonize him further.

'It's fine. I can get myself home,' Zoe assured him.

Tristan looked at her flatly and Zoe could tell that, even if he didn't particularly want to spend time with her, he would do what Aleron had asked him to.

Sighing, she trudged out of the torch circle in Tristan's wake, noticing that some of them had gone out. She followed the scout who seemed eerily aware of everything around them, to Braewyn's house and tried to thank him for making sure she made it home in one piece. Tristan didn't even acknowledge her thanks, and as soon as she was near the door he turned around and walked off, back towards the fort.

Zoe, realizing how tired she was now that she could see Braewyn peacefully sleeping, was mildly annoyed at this, but supposed that this 'Jaiyana' must really be worrying Tristan. It almost made him seem like a real person, Zoe thought sleepily as she took off the new dress and struggled into her nightgown. She smiled a little at that thought as she collapsed onto the furs that were used for a bed next to Braewyn, not looking forward to having to get up in a few short hours. Sleep came soon after she pulled them over the top of her.

xxx

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I had an exam, state champs and my last waterpolo games, so I've been a busy girl. Also, I've finished all my classes and am now on study break before exams start (for me) in three weeks.

Anyway, I hope the chapter is worth the wait. As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are wonderful! And, again, thank you to my beta-homeric is absolutely brilliant!

Reviews are appreciated!

Disclaimer: King Arthur and the knights do not belong to me. Such a pity.


	13. Don't Say Goodbye

**13**.** Don't Say Goodbye**

Zoe was having a lovely dream. She was back at home, in 2008, using her dog, Ripper, as a pillow. She was nice and warm, and Ripper needed a bath, because he smelled like he'd been rolling in something questionable. Nonetheless she was happy - content even. But after only a few moments of peace there was this annoying voice disturbing the dream, and she just wanted to tell it to shut up.

'Five more minutes,' Zoe mumbled in English, rolling over and snuggling against her dog-pillow.

'Wake up, Zoe.'

Wait, Zoe thought hazily, Celtic? Then she realized that the dream-Ripper was actually just a lump in the furs that she was using for a bed. And she wasn't really in 2008, she was in Roman Britain and she had to get up and go to work.

'Come along, Zoe,' Blanchefleur said, pulling Zoe up and gently propelling her in the direction of the water-bucket. 'You've got work and I've got a job to do.'

Zoe was grumpy. Yule, while it had been wonderful, had left her more tired than the time she'd gone out clubbing with Brit until five in the morning. Mind you, it was just after dawn now, and after she'd been clubbing she'd woken up at ten o'clock to drive back to her place and go to sleep there until eight in the evening when her parents decided she'd had enough sleep and made her study.

Now, though, she had gotten no more than three hours of sleep, judging by the light, and she had to go to work all day in a room that constantly smelled of sweaty, dirty men, with tubs of water and harsh soap that made her hands red and raw and made her back ache. And, if she was lucky, she got to mend clothes instead of wash them.

At work, everyone was quieter than usual, and the conversation naturally involved Yule and what everyone else had done there...or after it. Zoe learned that not only had Lucia disappeared from the celebrations with that blacksmith, but also that Lucia had gotten less sleep than she herself had. Apparently Byron had walked Liliana home so that they could continue some discussion they'd been having and Blanchefleur wouldn't shut up about dancing with Percival.

'Heard you went home with Tristan,' Liliana said through a yawn. 'What was that like?'

'He didn't say a word, just walked to Braewyn's, watched me through the door and left,' Zoe muttered, staring blearily at the tear in the pair of trousers she had been given and trying to make hands work properly. Apparently if she didn't get enough sleep, her sewing skills suffered.

'But still, how'd you get him to go home with you?' Blanchefleur asked with more energy than any of the other girls could muster. _Oh, the power of love_, Zoe thought grumpily.

'I didn't. Aleron did. Tristan was worried about someone. Jayna? Jaina? Jana? Aw, fuck it, I can't remember,' Zoe yawned. 'Too tired.'

'Was it Jaiyana?' Lucia asked.

Zoe blinked owlishly for a few moments, before nodding. 'That's the name.'

'She's his horse. Only thing that cold bastard cares about,' Lucia said. 'Is this all we have?' she asked, pointing to the clothes drying nearby.

'Yeah. But we've got to wait until they're dry.' Evelyn said. She was more rested than the others because she'd been a good Christian girl and gone to bed early. And yet, somehow, she'd managed to collect more gossip than the rest of them. For example, Evelyn had been the one to reveal that Iona had rejected Gawain when he'd tried to seduce her, that Lancelot had been seen in a compromising position with not one, but two women that night. At the same time. For some reason, nobody doubted that for a second.

'Good. Wake me up when there's work.' Lucia said and promptly curled up on the ground to nap.

'Me too, please,' Zoe said, scooting over into a corner and closing her eyes, resting against the wall.

The rest of the day, and the next, apart from the difficulties associated with hard partying, such as lack of sleep and sore muscles from the dancing, were quite normal. Then, two days after Yule, Zoe was taken to watch the knights ride out with Evelyn and Blanchefleur. Zoe's curiosity, Evelyn's admiration for Arthur and Blanchefleur's infatuation with Percival gave them the courage to sneak out of the laundry, after extracting promises from the other girls not to tell Jols.

'Look at them!' Evelyn squealed, tugging on Zoe's hand and pointing to where the knights were getting ready.

'They look so heroic,' Blanchefleur sighed, eyes dreamy and rather vacant, if you asked Zoe.

'They look like they're going out to kill,' Zoe said flatly. 'That's not heroic, that's their life, and that's sad.'

The knights didn't look heroic at all to her; they looked nothing like the legends had described them as a matter of fact. Their armour wasn't shiny, or even armour at all, really, just hardened pieces of leather that covered their bodies, maybe reinforced with metal, Zoe couldn't tell. And they were all dirty and kind of feral looking. Nothing like the genteel, Christian knights whose code of chivalry was legendary where she came from. They looked like hard men, whose job made them brutal. And Zoe found herself feeling sorry for them, rather than fearing them.

And she decided Bors wasn't that scary at all, as she saw a heavily pregnant Vanora scold him and make him promise to come back alive and before she gave birth, reducing him to an adoring, devoted, surprisingly meek man. 'I promise, my little flower,' Bors said, and the two of them engaged in a goodbye that Zoe felt would have been better carried out in the privacy of their own home.

Then some of the knights saw them standing together, and nudged each other and laughed. Evelyn and Blanchefleur were flattered to be noticed, Zoe thought that the knights were probably talking about which one had better breasts, or which one they'd 'do' and didn't feel so great about it.

Then the knights stopped suddenly, and became serious. Zoe saw a flash of red, and suddenly Arthur was in their midst and she was breathless. Even from this far, he looked like a king. The way he carried himself, his white horse, even his armour screamed 'royal' to Zoe.

He said something to the knights, and from what Zoe could see, their mood changed dramatically. They were standing unusually still, their faces strangely grim and as they moved to their horses they were abnormally silent. No jokes, no laughter. Bors went back to Vanora for a last kiss, one that lasted longer and was more tender than the one they'd shared before. They appeared to part with more reluctance this time, and Dagonet clapped him on the back as they moved to their horses.

Arthur reached his horse, his white stallion, and mounted him. The knights followed suit and they all rode out of the fort towards past where the three girls were standing. Further along the road there were groups of people, waiting to bid their goodbyes to the knights, but the girls were right next to the fort gates, just out of earshot of the Romans guarding it.

'Goodbye,' Evelyn said softly, looking up at the knights as they passed.

'Come back safely,' Blanchefleur said, a little louder, looking at Percival. He stared right back and nodded, lips quirking into the smallest smile Zoe had ever seen as Blanchefleur turned an unflattering shade of red.

Zoe said nothing, but nodded to Arthur, who returned it solemnly. A few of the knights, ones who were familiar with Zoe thanks to her job delivering them their clothes nodded or said goodbye. Zoe got more and more afraid, they all sounded like they were expecting to die, as if they would never come back. And it was a real possibility. The knights genuinely believed they could die, that's why Arthur was so grave and Bors unsmiling and the usually sociable Dinadan grimmer than usual.

'Goodbye, girls,' Gawain said solemnly. 'Goodbye.' He looked at Zoe for a second, as if he wanted to say more, and Zoe's heart leapt into her throat. He looked so sad that all she wanted to do was hug him until that hopeless look was out of his eyes and kiss him until he became the laughing man she had danced with at Yule again.

Gawain nodded to Zoe, smiled a little, meant to reassure, but only succeeding in making Zoe's stomach tighten in sudden fear.

More knights had ridden past, all saying goodbye in one way or another. Galahad had gone past, saying goodbye to the three girls in most depressing fashion yet, and Zoe felt as if she would choke and felt her eyes burning from tears.

Lancelot smiled at them in his usual fashion, but his eyes were lacking their usual humour. 'Ladies, farewell, I know you'll miss me,' he said suggestively, but Zoe could tell that his heart wasn't in it, and he, too, the knight she had thought would never give up, was feeling the same helplessness and despair that the others were.

Zoe was two steps forward, holding onto Lancelot's leg tightly before she realized it. 'Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare. This isn't goodbye, because you, and all of these idiots are coming back. I don't want to hear another goodbye from you, from any of you. Arthur's going to bring you all back home, so don't you dare say goodbye again.' Zoe was startled to feel the tightness in her throat that meant she was trying to stop herself from crying, and that the blurring of the world was from tears.

She felt a warm, calloused hand on her cheek and looked up, blinking to clear her eyes and sniffed loudly. Lancelot was looking down at her, smiling for some reason.

'I hate to see a pretty woman cry,' he said, hand leaving Zoe's face as he straightened in his saddle. 'We'll all do our best to come back, but we can't make any promises, Zoe. That's our life.'

'You sound like you expect to die,' Zoe whispered, as her hands clutched the leather of Lancelot's trouser leg tighter and the other knights rode around the two of them and Evelyn and Blanchefleur looked on.

'Wouldn't you like the opportunity to say goodbye to your loved ones?' Lancelot asked. 'I don't want regrets if it is my fate to die soon.'

'You can't just give up like that. I know I don't have the right to demand things of you like this, we're not friends, and you've doubtless got countless others closer to you than me, but promise you'll do your best and fight every step of the way?' Zoe asked, letting go of Lancelot's trousers and smiling weakly up at him. 'When you expect the worst, it will always happen.'

'I promise,' Lancelot said. 'Anyone who cares should be able to ask for what you did. I hope you'll care enough when I get back, because I wouldn't mind some more of that care then,' he said, winking. Then, the man smiled that damn smile down at Zoe, the one that made her re-think her internal resolution never to sleep with him. If he smiled at her enough like that, she just might. Lancelot kicked his horse into a trot and rode to catch up with Arthur, not looking back.

Zoe stepped back to the side of the road, out of the way of the remaining knights and sniffed again, wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeves. She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders from one side and another around her waist from the other, Blanchefleur and Evelyn lending her their wordless support while Zoe got her emotions and expression under control.

For some reason, Tristan was the last knight out of the fort, and he was different to the others. His eyes were sharp and focused, no different than usual, bright like a wolf's eyes, or a falcon's through the hair that fell in clumps in front of his face.

Zoe smiled at him as best she could. He was frightening; he didn't seem to care about anyone else, but he deserved a proper send-off, just like the rest of them.

'Come back soon,' Zoe said.

Tristan looked at her, and Zoe had to fight to keep her smile in place and not flinch under his gaze. He nodded once, slowly, as if what Zoe had said was either incredibly unexpected or stupid (_probably stupid_, Zoe thought) and rode off.

Evelyn and Blanchefleur wanted to wait a little longer, until the knights were out of sight, but Zoe pulled them away.

'We've got to go back before Jols finds out. It's not the last time you'll see any of them,' Zoe said with more confidence than she felt. 'Now come on.'

Jols found out anyway, but after making the three of them clean the laundry as punishment, he said that, as the knights were gone, there would be no need for them to show up at work until they came back. He gave them their pay and told them to enjoy their break. Zoe fully intended to do absolutely nothing, to just relax as much as she could with the depressing goodbye of the knights hanging around in her memory. She could definitely understand why Liliana and Lucia hadn't wanted to go, but she had already promised herself that next time the knights left she'd be there to see them off again.

But, instead of sitting around doing absolutely nothing like she'd thought she wanted to do, Zoe felt guilty. She'd watch from the pile of furs as Braewyn got up, lit the fire and started cleaning. It took all of ten minutes with Zoe debating the merits of cold feet versus incredible guilt, laziness versus usefulness, for Zoe to decide to help Braewyn with the housework. And when she'd gotten sick of it, she'd gone for walks with her friends when they could get away from their houses and talk about everything but the knights. Zoe's steadfast belief that the knights would be alright, coupled with Blanchefleur's tendency to go all quiet and moody if the knights were mentioned led to an unspoken agreement not to say anything about them. Still, it wasn't often that all of them could get together, so it became less of an issue. Even if they weren't working for money now, they were all still working at home. Lucia, in particular, seemed quite busy. Apparently it was the time when a lot of people decided to buy cloth to make spring and summer clothes, as they had the time and they would be needed soon, as thaw was just around the corner.

Liliana was free most of all. In an effort to escape her family she did all her chores as quickly as possible, before coming over to Zoe's house and doing more, which struck Zoe as a little odd, but any help with the housework, she wasn't going to object to. After the work was done, usually around lunchtime, Zoe would drag Liliana out for walks.

Liliana, acting as a sort of tour guide, took Zoe out to see the places that, apparently, every child who had grown up in the village knew about thanks to games of chase, hide-and-seek and getting lost. She learned that when Evelyn and Liliana had been little, they'd become friends as a result of a game of hide-and-seek gone wrong.

There were little clearings, memorable trees, even an outcrop of rocks with a cave in them, but that was approximately an hour's walk away from the village and Liliana only took her twice. The place they went to most, however, was a stream. It was past the last of the fields, just within the area patrolled regularly by the Roman soldiers, but it felt so isolated. The place Zoe and Liliana liked best was where the stream became a waterfall, and, in the winter, when it had frozen, Zoe had dragged Liliana back to it again and again to stare at it, much to Liliana's amusement.

It had been a quiet month; Zoe hadn't had to work to a schedule, and she could indulge her inner child and have snowball fights with some of the village children, who, although a little disturbed to have a 'lady' fighting with them had adopted her as one of their own pretty quickly. Their parents hadn't been too thrilled at first, to have the witch's girl around their children, undoubtedly putting the evil eye on them, but when no bad things had happened to them, they started to ask Zoe to look after their kids for them.

It was fun, and it was relaxing and, for a time, Zoe could forget about the danger the knights were in. It couldn't last.

The knights were away for a week, and people started to expect them back. When the knights didn't come back for over two weeks, people started talking. After three weeks, they started to worry. They said maybe they'd been injured, were fighting a war somewhere for Rome. Maybe they'd been killed. And Zoe, watching Blanchefleur worry endlessly and Vanora, heavily pregnant, pacing the wall day after day, began to understand why it wasn't a good thing to be in love with a knight.

One day when she went to the blacksmith's to get one of Braewyn's pots repaired she heard the story of how Palomides, Dinadan's closest friend, and Gawain's brother Gaheris died when the Woads ambushed them. When she talked with Lucia as the two of them went to the cobblers to get Lucia's other pair of boots repaired, Lucia told her about how Caradoc had never been the same after Cador died, and how Percival had mourned for Derfel, who had died after his wound festered and poisoned his blood.

Zoe, now concerned herself for the safety of the knights (and firmly putting any more-than-friendly feelings for Gawain out of her head) decided to go and pray for them. She'd found that living here had made her believe in God again, because maybe, if God and the supernatural existed, she could get home again. Evelyn told her in a hushed voice when they met by chance outside Church about Bors' notorious drunken rampage after his brother Ban, and his nephew Lionel were killed on the same day due to the incompetence of a Roman centurion, and how Arthur had blamed himself for it. And Adan, Evelyn's betrothed, told her as they walked to the centre of the town together, about finding Galahad in tears behind the stables after one of their generation of knights died for the first time, a boy no more than fifteen called Agravain. It horrified her that, of the forty knights who had originally come to the wall, so few were left. Gawain, Lancelot, Bors, Tristan, Dagonet, Galahad, Caradoc, Kay, Dinadan, Percival, Lamorak, Bedivere and Arthur were the only ones left alive and with all their limbs intact.

Zoe started to worry about them - having nightmares about them being massacred by woads, dying from infection due to lack of proper medicine, or of stupid Roman commanders getting them all killed accidentally. But she wasn't as badly off as Blanchefleur, who was looking more and more like a walking corpse, due to her and lack of sleep and appetite. Vanora was coping admirably, but then, Zoe supposed she'd be used to it. Vanora did have four children by Bors, after all, with another one soon to be born. Very soon, if the size of her stomach was any indication. The only sign Vanora gave of her anxiousness for her lover to return was her twice-daily trips to the top of the wall, accompanied by Jols, or occasionally by one of her friends from the tavern and always with her children.

'She doesn't want to give birth without Bors there. She's afraid,' Evelyn explained to Zoe when they met by chance at the market and spied Vanora making her slow way up to the top of the wall. 'She doesn't want her kids to be fatherless as well as bastards. They'll already have enough problems as it is.'

'Why?'

Evelyn looked at Zoe blankly. 'They're bastards. Why else?'

'Oh.' Zoe looked up at Vanora, standing on the wall, staring steadfastly in the direction her lover had gone, her children clinging to her sides.

'If Bors leaves, the kids have got no rights to any of his property, and just ask Lucia how much you should trust men. People in the market always look at them like they're dirt. No matter how many children Bors and Vanora have, I'll always hear about somebody who claims to have fathered one of them. And Lancelot's not helping it much, either. Particularly not when Two looks like she does,' Evelyn said.

'Two?'

'Their second child. When Vanora got pregnant right after Gilly was born, Bors refused to name any more. That's what people say, anyway. It's more like a nickname, really. Her real name's Aidilh, after Vanora's grandmother,' Evelyn said, pointing to a small silhouette at Vanora's side as the redhead and her children made it to the top of the wall.

'So why is she a problem?' Zoe asked as the two made their way back to the main market square and towards the blacksmith's, where Evelyn's betrothed was working. She was hoping to see him quickly without the supervision of her parents, as they expected her home relatively soon.

'Two's hair is dark and curly, and her eyes are dark, too. The other kids all take after Vanora-light hair and eyes. Maybe Two takes after Bors, but I keep hearing that she's really Lancelot's child.'

'Vanora wouldn't do that to Bors. They love each other!' Zoe protested.

'I don't believe it either, but Lancelot likes everyone to think he can bed anyone, even another man's woman,' Evelyn said with disgust. 'My parents are expecting me home, I'll see you tomorrow, yes?'

That night, Zoe had a nightmare that she was watching her lover, whose face she couldn't remember, die again and again while she was watching, incapable of doing anything but screaming.

'You don't look well, Zoe,' Evelyn said when they met the next day. 'Are you feeling well?'

'I'll be fine, I promise,' Zoe reassured her friend. 'I just didn't sleep well.'

'You're not in love with one of them are you?' Evelyn asked, grabbing the sleeve of Zoe's woollen dress anxiously.

'Speaking of them, did you see Vanora up on the wall today?' Zoe asked, avoiding the question completely. Vanora hadn't been up on the wall like she usually was at this time of day and Zoe was worried for the redheaded woman.

'No, I didn't. Maybe she's giving birth at last. She's quite late, you know,' Evelyn suggested.

'That would make it quite hard to climb the wall,' Zoe agreed. 'Oh, Evelyn, look at that horse!'

It was a beautiful animal, gray and strong and proud and tied up outside the blacksmith's looking incredibly out of place.

'She's magnificent,' Evelyn whispered. 'I wonder who she belongs to.' She was about to reach a hand out to pet the glossy coat of the animal when it snorted and backed up.

'Hey, darling, I'm not going to hurt you,' Evelyn tried to soothe the mare, but it didn't appear to do anything except make the horse rear as much as it could when it was tied to the wall of the blacksmith's shop.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you. Vicious beastie this one is,' a familiar voice said from the doorway of the shop.

'Aleron!' Zoe smiled and held out her hand, which the farrier kissed instead of shook. 'This is my friend Evelyn,' Zoe introduced the girl quickly. 'Is this your horse?'

'No, I'm looking after her for a while. I'm re-shoeing her while I have the time, and exercising her for her owner. This beauty here took me three hours to shoe. She's as meek as a kitten with him, but just won't tolerate anyone else,' Aleron grumbled, seizing the bridle of the horse. It still tried to bite him, but his grip was too strong.

'Whose horse is it?' Zoe asked, much warier of the horse now. As beautiful as it was up close, it seemed rather bad-tempered, and Aleron's confirmation made Zoe decide to stay out of its way.

'Jaiyana, meet Zoe and Evelyn. Zoe, Evelyn, meet Tristan's horse and the reason why I couldn't walk you home from Yule, Zoe. Little beauty strained a tendon and Tristan wanted to ride her out on the mission.'

'Does he have another horse?' Evelyn asked, as she stepped cautiously away from Jaiyana, who seemed to have taken a particular objection to her, if the bared teeth were anything to go by.

'Yeah, he's taken Derfel's stallion. Closest one to his Jaiyana, he says. He's an absolute terror when he doesn't get what he wants, that one,' Aleron said.

'I bet he is,' Zoe grumbled, earning herself a jab in the ribs from Evelyn along with a hissed command to respect the knights.

'Reminds me, he did walk you home, yeah?' Aleron asked. 'Because if he didn't I'll be having words with that man on the proper way to treat a lady.'

Zoe laughed and assured Aleron that yes, Tristan had walked her home, no, he hadn't hurt her or snarled at her and yes, she was quite sure it had been Tristan and not some impersonator.

'Well, I'm surprised. Maybe he's been listening to Lancelot and Dinadan,' Aleron said and the two girls snickered.

'Zoe, Adan's just inside, I'll be there if you need me,' Evelyn excused herself, slipping inside the shop.

'So she's the girl Adan's been talking about,' Aleron said, turning to watch Evelyn as she said hello to her betrothed in a manner her parents would not have approved of.

'I'd imagine so. I'd be worried if he was talking about a different girl,' Zoe said, moving so that neither her nor Aleron could spy on the couple.

The two of them chatted for a bit, mostly about Aleron and his work. Apparently he cared for the knights' horses, got on well with Jols and was the bastard son of a professional soldier, whose name he didn't know, and had been working to help his mother care for his half-sisters and younger half-brother since he was seven by running errands for Arthur's father before he'd learned how to care for horses.

Soon, Evelyn was ducking back out of the shop, trying to look as if she had not been making out with her fiancée and not entirely succeeding.

'Zoe, I have to leave now, my parents are expecting me at home soon,' Evelyn said, looking up at the position of the sun and judging the time. 'It was nice to meet you, Aleron. I'll see you soon, Zoe.' Evelyn flashed a smile to Zoe and left quickly, heading in the direction of her house.

'I've got to take this terror back to Jols in the Sarmatian stables,' Aleron said, looking at the horse with distaste.

'Oh…Well it was nice to see you again,' Zoe forced herself to smile, recognizing a brush-off when she heard it.

'Wait, wait!' Aleron called out, cursing when Jaiyana whinnied and shied away, tossing her head. 'Stay still you damn horse!'

Zoe stopped and waited, as Aleron got the horse under control.

'Would you like to walk with me to the stables? I could use the company?' Aleron asked sheepishly after Jaiyana was under control, smiling at Zoe.

'I'd like that,' Zoe said, nodding her head and falling into step beside Aleron as he led the testy horse towards the Sarmatian building.

They didn't talk about anything important while they walked, just the basic facts of each other's lives. Aleron learned that Zoe liked green and that she hated the military, Zoe learned Aleron could sing quite well, regaling her with several folk songs, none of which she recognized. When Jaiyana had been settled in her stable Aleron offered to walk Zoe back to her home.

Zoe turned him down, smiling and waving goodbye. 'No thanks, I'll be fine on my own.'

And it was true; she was fine on her own. She walked through the Roman fort and out of its gates, head held high, smile on her face, a different girl from the one who had meekly followed Arthur in here the first time, cringing away from any sharp-edged object, be it weapon or tongue.

Zoe arrived back at Braewyn's house, wondering how she had changed so much and not noticed it, only to find another woman in the house with the old lady. She was tall for a woman, and rather bony with stringy brown hair piled up on her head, but when she turned around Zoe was struck by something familiar in her face that she couldn't place.

'Zoe, we're going to Vanora's. She's in labour now, and, from what Tam says, it shouldn't take long, you'll help me deliver the baby,' Braewyn said, not turning from where she was gathering her herbs.

'Me?' Zoe asked, eyes bulging with surprise. Braewyn wanted her to help deliver the baby? Really? What the hell was she thinking? Zoe wondered, still hoping that she'd misheard the old woman.

'Yes, you, Zoe. Zoe, meet Vanora's twin sister, Tam. Tam, Zoe. Now, there's no time to waste here, I hope you left your husband with the children and Vanora. I imagine she wouldn't like to be alone now,' Braewyn said as she moved, remarkably quickly for a woman as old as she was, around the room and then out of the house with Tam and Zoe trailing in her wake.

They went right back into town, and a few people called out greetings to the women, asking them where they were going and why they were in such a rush. Braewyn smiled and nodded, but ignored the questions. Tam answered with growing impatience and Zoe ignored them all.

Vanora's house turned out to be not too far from the Roman fort, close enough for Bors to effectively live with her, but still be in time for practice, missions and to stable his horse. Their house itself was impressively large and well made, with sturdy stone and tiles instead of thatch, one of few houses in the village that had it. The main room was easily twice the size of Braewyn's house, probably more, and there was a curtain shielding part the sleeping area from the rest of the house.

The rest of the house looked smaller than it was thanks to the clutter that came with accommodating four children and a husband. Toys were scattered everywhere, there were piles of bowls and pots and weapons hung on the walls or rested in corners. At the moment, Vanora's four children, as well as two others, were hugging a slightly overweight man in his early middle age and crying.

'Mama's crying!' Zoe heard one of them say when she, Braewyn and Tam walked into the room. 'Make her better, Uncle! You promised!'

'I'll be looking after the children,' Tam said, hurrying over to the man and transferring some of the children from him to her. They clung onto her tightly, with cries of 'Aunty', and she cast a look over at the partitioned-off area where her sister was in labour. 'Look after her, Braewyn. Please.'

Braewyn nodded and gave her promise, walking behind the curtain to see how Vanora was. Zoe decided she had to follow, but Vanora chose that moment to yell out a string of curses, the like of which Zoe had never heard before, and she stopped in her tracks, feeling suddenly a little sick. She was going to help Vanora. Who was pregnant and screaming not ten steps away from her. She was going to act as a midwife of sorts.

_Oh shit_, Zoe thought as Vanora yelled again, this time cursing Bors with words Zoe didn't know the exact meanings of, but words that she decided must be pretty impressive from the reactions of Tam and the man, who Zoe guessed must be her husband, who all told the children they were never to repeat what they had just heard Vanora say. Together they got the six children out the door and Tam's husband led them away, talking soothingly to them the whole time. Tam, about to follow suddenly turned and grabbed Zoe's hand.

'I'm next street over, right hand side of the cobbler,' Tam said, squeezing Zoe's hand, before leaving and hurrying after her husband. 'When the baby's born, come get me!'

Zoe heard Vanora cursing Bors for things she had not wanted to know about as she ducked around the curtain that served as a partition. Vanora was soaked in sweat, her usually beautiful hair lank and tangled, face screwed up and she was leaning against the wall.

'Vanora, lie down and don't be silly,' Braewyn was saying. 'Come on, there's a good girl. Now lie back and hold Zoe's hand now, it'll be easier that way for the baby to be born,' she urged. 'Zoe, get over here, please.'

Zoe hurried to Vanora's side as the woman obeyed Braewyn's instructions. She winced when Vanora's sweaty hand clamped on to hers in a grip so tight it was painful.

She didn't let go until Zoe was sure she had lost all circulation in her fingers and Vanora's voice was hoarse from yelling amid Braewyn's calm instructions of 'Push now, dear,' and Zoe's unhelpful suggestions that perhaps she not let Bors within ten feet of her in future, or that Vanora make him have the children in future.

'Don't be stupid, I wanted this baby,' Vanora had snarled at that comment. 'I just want it out!'

According to Braewyn it was an easy birth, and Zoe thought she'd been the most frightened of the three women. Braewyn was an experienced midwife, Vanora had given birth before (apparently this made it easier, but Zoe thought it looked pretty bloody hard anyway), but Zoe had never seen anyone in labour and hadn't been prepared for the pain it appeared to take to give birth. _No anaesthetic_, Zoe thought somewhat giddily. _That's got to hurt_.

And yet, the look of pure joy on Vanora's face as she heard the first screams of her new child made Zoe fight tears herself. Relief, happiness and instant, unconditional love all made Vanora's tired, sweaty face more beautiful than Zoe had ever seen her before.

'I wish Bors was here,' Vanora murmured as she nursed the newborn baby. 'Oh, I hope he comes home safely,' she said.

Zoe, on the way out to get Vanora's twin, silently echoed that wish, thinking of Bors' newborn baby, Lancelot's impossibly handsome smile, Arthur's dream of a world of equality and freedom, Percival's rough chivalry, Dinadan's easy grin, Tristan's intense eyes and the way Gawain's smile made her feel.

_Please let them come back soon_, Zoe thought, _please_.

xxx

**A/N**: Sorry it took so long-I had my final exams ever for high school, and I just couldn't concentrate on anything other than my work. Thanks to everyone for being so patient, and I hope this really long chapter makes up for it. As always, thank you to my lovely, lovely beta homeric, an absolute star!

Also, reviews are loved, and thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter in the huge break!

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, I just play with them. I promise to return them as I found them.


	14. I'm Glad You're Back

**14. I'm Glad You're Back**

Vanora's new baby was the talk of the town, and Zoe was asked more times than she could remember to give details of the new baby; if it was healthy, how loud it had cried, if it had looked like Bors at all. She'd also been asked about Vanora; if the birth had been easy or not, were there any complications, was Vanora still strong after it?

Zoe had realized quickly that births were risky here, and that not many children survived past five years old, many more dying in infancy. Vanora was considered lucky because out of five pregnancies so far, she'd had five children. Others hadn't been so lucky.

Zoe learned that Lucia had been pregnant twice, and had no children to show for it-one had been aborted and the other had miscarried. She'd also heard about Caradoc's lover, who had died giving birth to his child. The child itself had died of a fever not long after Cador, the unfortunate woman had died, and many had thought that Caradoc would go the same way, his strength weakened by grief.

Soon enough, however, Vanora's baby stopped being such big news as she started to return to her usual routine. She started shopping again, albeit with help, usually her sister's. She started working a little in the tavern again, only for an hour or two at a time when her sister was free to look after the baby. And, soon enough, she was taking the baby up on he daily trips to the wall, looking out for her lover. But Bors didn't come back, even though Vanora waited for him every day.

Zoe ran in to Tam, Vanora's twin, at the market and was told that Vanora hadn't even named the baby yet. She was waiting for Bors.

'She should name him already. And if Bors doesn't like it, he can deal with it. It's not as if he'll call the boy anything other than Five,' Tam said quite loudly.

Zoe managed to slip away from the group of women who surrounded Tam as soon as they heard Bors' name. Tam enjoyed the attention she got from having a sister who was the lover of one of Arthur's famous knights, and answered all of the questions the women had with a smile on her face and giving detail that, surely, Vanora wouldn't want aired in the public marketplace. Zoe's stomach twisted with disgust and she walked away.

'She named him Drostan,' Braewyn told Zoe the next day, after a visit she'd taken to Vanora's to check on both baby and mother, and to give the small family some honey cakes she'd baked.

'The noisy one?' Zoe guessed, looking up from the stocking she was mending.

'He's very loud,' Braewyn said, nodding in confirmation. 'Very strong. His father would be proud of him.'

'Bors will be proud of him,' Zoe retorted. 'They're coming back, Braewyn. All of them are coming back.'

Braewyn agreed readily enough. 'Arthur will always bring them home. It's alive that I'm worried about.'

So Zoe went back to her usual routine. Work at home, walk with friends and worry about the knights. It felt like an endlessly repeating cycle. Vanora was looking worse than she felt, but then, the woman did have a lover out there, and a new child to look after, so she had an excuse for looking awful. But even Vanora didn't look as terrible as Blanchefleur, who had taken to staring into space with bloodshot eyes. She looked, quite frankly, like a corpse. She didn't sleep, she barely ate, and she was constantly talking about Percival.

Zoe, Liliana and Evelyn kept a close lookout on Blanchefleur, to make sure she didn't do anything stupid, like make herself sick with worry or keep a constant watch on the gate. They brought her food, asked her older sister to make sure she slept and bribed her younger brothers with honey cakes to make sure she wasn't constantly miserable. Even Lucia, although she would never admit it, watched the girl more closely than before.

Zoe even started inviting Blanchefleur to play with the village children. They took even longer to accept Blanchefleur than they had Zoe, but after Blanchefleur had pelted Zoe with snowballs, they rallied and defended Zoe from the new lady.

'You're gonna get it!' they yelled, all attacking at the same time and shrieking with laughter.

Zoe had gone home soaked and tired, but laughing, and Blanchefleur had looked like she was much better for it. She had regained some colour back in her cheeks and a smile back on her face and, for an hour or so, she had forgotten that Percival was missing.

Finally, after nearly two months of worry, a horn sounded, and the news spread that the knights were coming back. It was late winter, and the snow had turned to slush, but finally the knights were coming home. Zoe and Blanchefleur heard that they had been sighted when they were caught in the middle of a mudfight fight against a group of children led by a child named after St. Crispin who Zoe called 'Chris'. His mother had walked up, catching the slushy ball of ice and mud Chris had sent Zoe's way in the shoulder, before telling the girls what she had seen

'Are you going to go see them home?' she had asked, taking Chris by the hand to keep him from making another missile. The other kids had slunk away now that there was an actual adult around, disappearing to find another place to play.

'Yes, yes we are,' Blanchefleur had said, grabbing Zoe's hand and sprinting in the direction of the gate.

There were people lining the road towards the fort, all looking eagerly towards the direction the knights were coming from, but instead of joining them, Blanchefleur pulled her shorter friend in the direction of the back of the fort, closer to the village where there was another gate, guarded by a pair of legionaries and a courtyard visible through the bars separating it from the street. People also surrounded this courtyard and lined the road leading to it, but Blanchefleur pushed Zoe through the gaps between people until they were both pressed against the bars separating them from the knights, gasping for breath after their mad dash.

'I hope he's not hurt, I hope he's not hurt,' Blanchefleur muttered, chest heaving, as they waited for the knights to appear.

'Why are we here?' Zoe asked, trying to regain control of her breathing and trying to look through the crowd for the knights. A tight knot of tension was growing inside her, and all her worries and nightmares resurfaced. They'd been gone for nearly two months after all, something had to have been keeping them away. Like injuries, deaths, blizzards, hordes of woads to fight; something terrible had obviously prevented them from returning. Zoe pressed a hand to her stomach, as if that would ease away some of her fears.

'They come around this way, it's closer to their stables and the infirmary.' She suddenly reached out for Zoe's hand and gripped it tightly as the noise around them swelled. 'They're here!'

True enough, the knights rode in, splattered with mud and other unpleasant things, their horses, weapons and two months without the benefit of a razor or comb making them look more intimidating than they really were. They pulled their mounts to a halt once they were inside the courtyard and, ignoring the people around them, began to dismount and care for their animals.

'Are they hurt?' Blanchefleur asked, as Zoe's stomach twisted in anticipation, before she let out a sigh of relief.

From what Zoe could see, they weren't all injured. Tristan seemed to be fine, Galahad had a bandage pressed to his side, but was moving around well and his colour was good. Dinadan was fine, Percival, Lamorak, Caradoc, Dagonet and Bors were all apparently uninjured as well. Bedivere had a scrape along his arm, but it wasn't bleeding and there was no bandage, so Zoe assumed he was fine and Kay had blood on his trousers and a bandage around his upper thigh, but he was riding, so that was a good sign. Lancelot was looking annoyed, and Zoe guessed it was because three fingers on his right hand were splinted, and Arthur was looking very tired and he had a large, rather dirty bandage across his stomach. Gawain, Zoe noticed happily, wasn't hurt.

It felt as if a string had been cut inside her and she sagged against the bars, too relieved to support herself properly. They were all here, they all came back. They were all alive. Zoe couldn't keep the stupid grin off her face. They were all alive!

'Oh thank the gods,' Blanchefleur sighed, releasing Zoe's hand. 'He's not hurt.'

Zoe surreptitiously rubbed feeling back into her hand and guessed that Blanchefleur had seen that Percival, although rather blood-spattered, was not hurt in the slightest. Not if his antics are anything to go by, anyway, Zoe thought as she watched Percival attempt to trip Dagonet up and duck away from his retaliatory punch, only to go annoy Tristan, if the man's darker than usual scowl was any indication of his mood.

'Out of the way!' A familiar voice demanded. 'Move!' It was Vanora, her hair half up in a bun, apron tied around her clearly not pregnant stomach_. Bors is in trouble_, Zoe thought.

Zoe stepped aside quickly, pulling Blanchefleur out of the way as well. She'd heard what Vanora had yelled out when she was giving birth and she wouldn't want to be in Bors' position right now. Given the space that formed around Bors and his lover, none of the other knights envied him either.

Bors gaped at his wife, before breaking out into the hugest grin Zoe had ever seen. 'My pearl, how've you been?' Bors tried to greet her, but was met, not with the passionate kiss he'd undoubtedly been hoping for, but instead with a punch to the stomach.

'You left me when our child was about to be born? You promised you wouldn't be gone for more than a week and it's been more than a month! What took you so long?' Vanora asked, clearly audible even from where Zoe and Blanchefleur were standing.

'But you're here, my love, so everything's obviously fine, yeah? The baby?' Bors asked, trying to pacify his lover.

'Is a lovely baby boy, as loud as his father. Now come with me and I'll show you 'fine',' Vanora snapped at him.

_Doesn't he know what they say about redheads?_ Zoe thought, wincing as Vanora grabbed him by the ear and dragged him in the direction of their house. The remaining knights thought this was hilarious, particularly Caradoc, one of Bors' closest friends among the knights, and Lancelot.

'I won't expect Bors at breakfast tomorrow, then,' Arthur said with a small smile on his face, causing the knights to laugh louder still and some of the women standing around Zoe to mutter about living in sin.

'Not just living, revelling,' one of them, a horse-faced woman who Zoe vaguely remembered was talking with Tam in the marketplace about Drostan.

'At least he loves her, which is more than you can say for your husband,' Blanchefleur snapped, tearing her eyes away from Percival long enough to glare at the woman, who flushed a shade of red that made her look unhealthy.

'At least I managed to attract a man's attention long enough to be married. If you don't marry soon, you'll end your days as a whore!' The woman turned and shouldered her way through the crowd and Blanchefleur looked back to Percival. Zoe squeezed her friend's hand reassuringly; the insult had been sharp and bitter, but the knights were back now and who knew what would happen? Blanchefleur might have her faults but she was far from stupid, and far from lacking in admirers for that matter. _Let the wizened old hag stew in her own bitterness,_ Zoe thought angrily.

The two girls watched the knights for a while, just happy to see them all well and relatively uninjured. Arthur disappeared pretty quickly; he looked as if he had the most serious injury of the knights. Kay had limped away with the help of Galahad and Lancelot was struggling to groom his horse with his splinted fingers, much to the amusement of Caradoc.

Zoe shivered a little, glancing at her spellbound friend. She was showing no sings of leaving, but Zoe was getting cold and her legs were getting sore from standing around for so long.

'You can leave, Zoe, you don't have to wait for me. I'll see you tomorrow at work, yeah? There'll be quite a bit of it,' Blanchefleur predicted.

That night Zoe slept undisturbed by nightmares of the knights dying and instead was disturbed by dreams of dancing laundry.

xxx

As it turned out, Blanchefleur was right. When Zoe showed up at work the next morning she had almost been overwhelmed, both by the volume of laundry and its potent smell. Every article of clothing the knights had taken with them needed repairing, some were ruined so new ones needed to be made and all of them needed to be washed as quickly as possible, if only so that the laundry girls didn't faint because of the stench.

'How do they manage to ruin their breeches on a mission like this?' Liliana asked in frustration, dumping a pile of them into the tub to be washed.

'How does any man manage to ruin them?' Lucia shot back from where she was hanging shirts to dry near a fire.

Nevertheless, her friends tackled the laundry with determination and enthusiasm. Almost immediately after the knights' return Blanchefleur looked better, and Zoe watched the change in her friend with relief. Evelyn preferred having a routine in her life and both Lucia and Liliana looked for excuses to get out of their houses, and so the mood amongst the young women was far happier than it had been, despite the extra work.

Zoe was less enthusiastic. She'd done some thinking while she'd been having a break and came to the conclusion that she was wasting her life. She'd been a straight A student, one of the best in her class; she could speak five different languages, if she counted the two she'd learned while she was here, and she was wasting her life mending clothes for a bunch of men she didn't even like. Mending a rip in one of Galahad's tunics, she tried to assure herself that the knights meant nothing to her.

Of course Lancelot had the funniest dirty jokes Zoe had ever heard, and she couldn't help but admire Arthur. And Bedivere was surprisingly interesting and knowledgeable for a knight, and Bors was such an affectionate father to his five children that she couldn't help but forgive his crudeness. And then there was Gawain…

Pricking her finger with the needle, she wiped the blood away before it could stain the cloth she was working on.

Not caring about the knights seemed to take more effort than she wanted to admit.

xxx

'You managed to see Percival, Blanchefleur?' Evelyn asked as she and Zoe hauled a dripping pile of clothes out of the vat where they had been washing them.

'Yes,' Blanchefleur replied, sounding a little choked. She was sorting through a pile of unwashed clothes, deciding what needed to be washed and what needed to be disposed of. 'Me and Zoe went together to see them come home.'

'You looking out for anyone special, Zoe?' Evelyn asked, nudging her with her elbow.

'No,' Zoe said, thinking of Gawain's smile. Damn, she was blushing.

'Oh yes you were. Who is it? Lancelot? I noticed you said goodbye to him rather…enthusiastically.' Evelyn was grinning, damn her, and now Liliana was interested, too.

'Oh, Zoe, please tell me it's not Lancelot. You know what that man does with women! I've heard that one of the girls he was with at Yule had to visit Braewyn for herbs to…you know...'

'Well, that's partly true. She came to Braewyn for herbs, but they were for her mother's heart, not for aborting a child. And there's nobody,' Zoe denied.

'You're lying,' Evelyn said. 'You make sure you're looking me straight in the eyes when you want to lie.'

Zoe blushed even more, guilty at being caught, but she still denied it until Lucia came over.

'We need to work, girls, there's too much for us to do if we gossip the whole time as well. Besides, it's perfectly obvious who she keeps looking at.'

Zoe looked at Luica, slightly panicked, but Lucia only smirked back, making Zoe feel rather frightened.

'How do you know? Zoe, did you tell her? Lucia, you have to tell me,' Blanchefleur tugged on Lucia's sleeve as the older woman walked to a line of nearly-dried clothes and sat down to mend them.

'Zoe, I believe you have to take some clothes up to the knights, yes?' Lucia called from where she was sitting.

'I do?' Zoe looked over to the pile, significantly smaller than it usually was before she braved the knights. Anyway, it was still rather early in the morning and the knights were usually more irritable before they'd had breakfast.

'They have to be able to wear something, don't they?' Lucia nodded pointedly towards the door and Zoe caught on suddenly.

'Yeah, I'll just take them up now,' Zoe said.

'But-'

'I'll be back soon, don't worry,' Zoe told the protesting Liliana and picked up the pile of clothes and almost ran out of the room.

She only checked the clothes she had once she had reached the hall where the knights were sleeping. There was no noise except for something Zoe had come to recognize as Gawain, Caradoc and Bedivere snoring in concert. They must be really exhausted because they only did that when they slept really deeply.

Zoe saw she had a few of Bedivere's things, a couple of Galahad's shirts and Lancelot's leather trousers, which Lucia had mended with a sour look on her face. She went to Bedivere first-if he was snoring like that he wouldn't wake up for anything short of a woad attack.

Bedivere's room was, as always, extraordinarily tidy and, as always, he had scrolls borrowed from Arthur lying where his clothes should go. Zoe poked them to one side, taking time to see how much Latin she could read.

'Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc'd by…fate, and haughty Juno's…unrelenting hate…expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore,' Zoe read haltingly as she set the book to the side. She put Bedivere's shirts next to the parchment, casting another lingering look at it before she left.

Galahad's shirts were put in his surprisingly clean room as quietly as possible. Zoe knew that, even if he was exhausted, he was always wary and waiting for pranks, traps and woad attacks. The time she'd accidentally knocked one of his knives off the table and onto the floor she'd found herself with an arm twisted behind her back and a knife to her throat.

Galahad hadn't let her leave until he'd apologized and she'd stopped crying. So now, she did her best to look out for his things, and not to wake him up. By the time she was out of the room, Galahad had only mumbled and rolled over. At least he was wearing trousers this time, Zoe thought, remembering that Galahad usually slept in the nude.

Lancelot, however, was sleeping in the nude and Zoe blushed when she put leather breeches on the chest at the end of Lancelot's bed, ignoring the rustling of sheets that signalled him rolling over in his sleep.

'Like what you see?'

Zoe squeaked and, out of reflex, turned to face the voice. Lancelot was lounging against the headboard of his bed, hands behind his head, completely unashamed of his nudity.

_No reason to be ashamed of that_, Zoe thought giddily as she looked away quickly.

'Join me?' Lancelot asked, and Zoe just knew he was smiling.

'Sorry, I'm still working,' Zoe said.

'All work and no play makes Zoe a dull girl,' Lancelot was sitting up now, reaching over he put his hands on her hips and they felt_ good_.

'Lancelot!' Zoe pulled away, annoyed at him for taking his flirting up a step beyond usual and at herself for how she felt about it-almost as if she'd strip naked and jump in bed if he asked.

'Fine, fine,' Lancelot let her go and flopped back on his bed, still naked and making no effort to cover himself up. 'You know I don't mean anything by it, Zoe.'

Zoe relaxed and turned back and smiled at him. 'And you know I don't mean anything by leaving now.'

She had only just got to the door when Lancelot suddenly spoke again. 'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'What you said. Just…thank you. Now get out, I need more sleep.'

'Lancelot?' Zoe asked hesitantly, one hand on the door, pushing it open slowly.

An answering grunt from the man told her he was listening, albeit reluctantly.

'I'm glad you're back, and that you're all safe.'

'Me too,' Lancelot said, turning his head to bury it in his pillow.

Zoe left Lancelot's room smiling, still trying to ignore the image of him, completely naked and so handsome, that seemed to be burned on the back of her eyelids. When she got back the laundry, telling the girls what Lancelot looked like naked, and assuring them that he wasn't compensating for anything (and ignoring Lucia's smug face that said 'I told you so') it was enough to distract them from trying to find out which knight was Zoe's favourite.

_Not that I'm in love with Gawain_, Zoe reassured herself as she scrubbed at one of Caradoc's bloodstained shirts. _I just think he's attractive. Really,_ really_, attractive._

The pile of shirts, trousers, pants, socks and whatever else they had to clean never seemed to end. Zoe's fingers became raw from the scrubbing, she'd managed to stab herself a few times with a needle and her back ached from hauling heavy piles of soaking wet clothes around. Her friends weren't in much better condition, but seemed more cheerful about it.

'You'll be doing things like this your whole life, Zoe. Get used to it,' Evelyn teased as the two of them worked at scrubbing mud stains out of Arthur's unmistakeable red cloak.

'Oh no, when I marry, I'm going to train my man to wash, cook and clean house,' Zoe said. 'I can go out and earn the money instead.'

Evelyn laughed. 'You say the strangest things, Zoe.'

'Where I come from, it's not unusual. Sometimes the woman works and the man stays home. Or both of them work.'

'Who would raise the children?' Evelyn looked completely scandalized.

'If the woman works, her husband would. If they both work, well, the children are at school for six hours a day, or they could go into…' Zoe floundered for a moment for the proper words in Latin. 'Day care-other people look after them until their parents stop working.'

Evelyn looked at Zoe and shook her head in amazement. 'You come from a strange place, Zoe.'

'It's normal for me, now let's finish this bloody laundry already,' Zoe growled, angrily rubbing a stubborn stain.

By the time their work was done, it was dark and the night was considerably colder than the day had been. Everyone split up and hurried home quickly. Nobody wanted to linger in the night for long, and Zoe tried to hurry home. It proved difficult to jog through the melting snow, more mud than snow at this point, actually, and Zoe had to keep a careful eye on the path to avoid tripping or stepping in the larger puddles that would find gaps in her leather boots.

'Walking alone?' a voice asked suddenly, from the darkness of the trees that grew thickly along the path.

Zoe let out a little shriek and looked around wildly for the speaker. 'Who's there?' she asked, stepping away from the trees while trying to keep her eyes on the shadows.

Suddenly Tristan stepped out of the trees right beside her and she nearly screamed again. She pressed a hand to her heart, which was beating so wildly that she was sure Tristan could hear it.

'I'll walk you home,' Tristan said, eyes scanning her and, undoubtedly, deciding she was too weak or too hopeless to walk the short distance to Braewyn's house on her own.

'It's not far, I'll be fine,' Zoe replied quickly. Tristan's eyes scared her, and he was still heavily armed. He had his sword buckled at his waist, two daggers, a quiver of arrows on his back and he was holding his bow loosely in one hand and that was just the weaponry that she could see.

Tristan's other hand grabbed her arm suddenly, tightly, and pulled her in the direction of Braewyn's house. His eyes constantly scanned the trees and shadows and he spoke to her in a voice she could barely hear. 'Woads.'

Zoe gulped. She'd heard stories about woads from Evelyn. Stories about rape, death and destruction. Evelyn seemed to have an idea that they used black magic, but Zoe, despite her improbable situation, still remained sceptical that magic even existed. But what Evelyn had told her-that they appeared out of shadows, attacked Roman patrols and burned villages to the ground, regardless of who was in them-was frightening enough.

Tristan's fingers were digging into her arm so hard they were hurting, and bound to leave bruises. He was tense, and worried, which made Zoe absolutely paranoid. Suddenly, every shadow (and there were a lot of them) was a woad out to get her. Every breeze was the prelude to an attack. And the owls were no longer owls, but signals to coordinate an attack.

Zoe twitched and flinched and stared about as wildly as she had the first time she had gone into the market with Braewyn and seen all the men with knives and daggers and swords. She felt pathetic.

'Stop doing that,' Tristan growled, in a tone that suggested he thought she was pathetic, too. 'They're not just going to jump out at you now.'

'What?' A twig snapped somewhere out there, and Zoe's head whipped around to look in that direction.

'They're watching the fort. We need to move faster,' Tristan said, and his hand yanked her rather violently forward as his strides grew longer. Zoe struggled to keep up without tripping; she couldn't pay any attention to where she put her feet, just to how fast they were moving.

And once they were moving faster, all the sounds of the night became more threatening. As if woads were chasing them, closing in on them. Zoe flinched at an owl call, jumped at a wolf's howl and nearly screamed when a rabbit ran across the road in front of them.

Zoe finally reached her house, just when she was about to begin sprinting to get to safety. She was worried and scared and she wanted the illusion of safety Braewyn's house gave to her. She reached for the door, but Tristan's hand on her arm tightened.

'This didn't happen, you're going to stay here, and you know nothing about the woads,' he said, squeezing her arm until Zoe nearly cried out from the pain. Then he let go and started to walk away.

'Why?' Zoe blurted out, rubbing her arm. 'Why don't I know about the woads who are going to attack the village any time now? Why can't I go warn them?'

Tristan looked back. His eyes gleamed strangely in the moonlight and Zoe nearly turned away and ran inside her house from a strange fear his stare gave her. But she stayed, and did her best to meet his eyes.

'Woads fight the Roman army, not Britons. They'll attack the fort, not the village.'

'But that means my friends, our job, Blachefleur's cousin, we all work there! I have to warn them!'

'You'll be inside, out of the battle, girl. Arthur will protect you.'

'Do you promise?' Zoe asked, afraid for her life and the lives of her friends.

'Stop being so stubborn, girl, and do as I say,' Tristan said with no change in the inflection of his voice, but his eyes flashed in the darkness.

Zoe shrank away from him, feeling threatened even though he had not moved and his expression hadn't changed. She leaned against the door for a moment, drawing strength from its solidity. 'My name is Zoe, and I will,' Zoe turned to look at the knight standing not more than three steps away from her. 'God help you if more people die because I did what you wanted me to,' Zoe said. Then she paused, one hand resting on the doorframe and looked back over her shoulder at the knight. 'Thank you for seeing me safely home and…'

The pause dragged on for a little too long, and Tristan got impatient and grunted 'What?'

Zoe smiled somewhat shakily. 'I'm glad you are back. I'm glad you're all back.'

Tristan's face didn't change, but his eyes did, if only for a moment, and Zoe was glad she had said it. She gave him a last smile and walked inside, nibbling on some of the cold meat Braewyn had left out for her before undressing and going to sleep.

That night, her nightmares returned, but this time, her friends were dying, and not just Braewyn, Liliana, Lucia, Evelyn and Blanchefleur, but Suze, Simon, Brit, her parents, and in the middle of it all was Tristan, saying 'This is your fault.'

xxx

A/N: Sorry for the long break-I was on holidays for a while and my awesome beta was also away from home. That, coupled with the fact that I was rather lazy in writing this chapter means a long delay between updates. Sorry for that.

Thanks to my awesome beta, homeric, for keeping me grammatically correct and historically accurate. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I love you guys! And thanks to anonymous readers, I'm glad you're still reading.

Also, the bit that Zoe reads in Bedivere's room is from the _Aeneid_ by Virgil, written in the late 1st Century BC. It's one of the founding myths of Rome, claiming it was founded by Aeneas after the fall of Troy.

Disclaimer: King Arthur movie is not mine, but I'm having a lot of fun playing with the characters.


	15. Fear

**15. Fear**

The days after Zoe had made her promise to Tristan were, quite frankly, hell. She was seeing woads behind every tree, hearing them all through the night and imagining all sorts of scenarios where everyone would be killed and it would be all her fault because she hadn't told anyone. She lost sleep, she was flinching and twitching like some sort of timid animal, she was running to and from work and earning herself several strange looks in the process and she wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing.

And what was the right thing to do? Should she tell her friends that there were woads watching them and warn them about the danger, or should she keep her promise to Tristan, and, by doing that, help Arthur?

'Zoe, are you feeling well?' Braewyn asked, clearly concerned. 'You've been acting strangely lately. Like running everywhere, and you're flinching at nothing.' Winter was barely over and the old woman had been preparing the ground for planting this year's herb and vegetable gardens when she saw Zoe puffing up to the house after running home from work.

'I'm fine. Just wanted to burn off some energy,' Zoe lied, turning away from Braewyn to go into the house. Normally, Zoe was a bad liar, but this time she got away with it.

Nevertheless, Braewyn checked her for fever, and warned her that doing silly things like running would ruin her reputation. Zoe personally thought that her reputation was less important than her life, and continued running home so that she had less chance of being accosted by woads.

As subtly as she could, she encouraged her friends to hurry home, and, if possible, to walk in pairs. They laughed at her, saying she had an overactive imagination, and she was sorely tempted to break her promise to Tristan. They did have a right to know if they were going to be assaulted by savages on their way home from work.

But, ultimately, the matter was decided for her.

She was up in the knights' quarters, doing what she usually did at this time of the afternoon. It was just after midday, the knights were usually in a good mood after being fed, and it was rare for them to be in any situations where it would be awkward or embarrassing for Zoe to walk in on in the middle of the day. Unless it was Lancelot, but he was quite the exhibitionist and Zoe had already caught him in all sorts of situations that had made her blush. She'd even been asked to join a threesome with him and the tanner's niece one day when she'd forgotten to knock.

Zoe shook her head to get rid of these unwanted, albeit amusing, memories and dumped Lancelot's clothes on his bed. His clothes-chest was open, and the table where Zoe usually put the clothes was covered with weapons to be sharpened or cleaned or repaired in some way. She'd learned not to touch the knights' weapons after Dinadan had yelled at her for five minutes for moving his sword and accidentally cutting herself on it.

She moved on to Gawain's room, knocking softly on the door. He didn't answer, so Zoe went in. It was empty, and rather messy, but it smelled surprisingly good. More like Gawain and less like animals, sweat, ale and rotting food than other rooms. She carefully set the clothes down as slowly as possible, making as many excuses as she could to stay in the blond knight's room. Maybe, if she took long enough, he'd come back.

After about five minutes of procrastination, Zoe was forced to move on. There was a limit to how much time she could spend up in the knights' quarters without Blanchefleur and Evelyn creating some epic romance to excuse Zoe's absences. I wish, Zoe thought, remembering Gawain's smile.

The next room was Bedivere's and she knocked on the door. He said she could enter, and she had, finding him and Lamorak sitting together. Well, Bedivere was sitting; Lamorak was sprawled out on Bedivere's bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

'I'm telling you, it's true,' Lamorak insisted.

'Anatomically impossible, Lamorak. I refuse to believe you,' Bedivere said, shaking his head with a thin-lipped frown on his face. 'Thank you, Zoe.' The knight nodded at her and Zoe smiled back, disappointed that she wouldn't be able to sneak some more reading in. The last time she had been in his rooms she had seen the name Aeneas, and it had sounded familiar, but she didn't know who he was or what he'd done.

'Ah, but you just know you'll try it out eventually. Just to prove it,' Lamorak said, grinning.

Zoe checked the pile of clothes she had. She was certain she'd seen some of Lamorak's things in there. Yes, there they were, Zoe thought, pulling out couple of shirts and a pair of breeches. Suddenly, she was being pulled towards Lamorak, who was sitting up on the bed now, his shirt gaping open on his narrow chest.

'Zoe, would you help dear Bedivere prove me wrong? Or would you prefer to help me prove Bedivere wrong?' He asked, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

'I have no idea what you are talking about, sir, so I'll have to say no,' Zoe laughed. 'Now, please take your clothes, I have to go back and help.'

'You're even less fun than Bedivere,' Lamorak accused, holding out his arms to reluctantly accept his laundry.

'Just when I'm working,' Zoe answered, handing the knight his pile of clothes and moving on to Arthur's quarters.

Unlike the knights, who lived in relatively simple rooms, Arthur's quarters were unusually lavish. Easily twice the size of the other knights' chambers, they were on the other side of the Round Table room. The only problem was that Arthur was expected to give them up every time anyone with more rank than he did stayed at the Roman fort. It was also one of three rooms in the building that had actual locks, however crude. The other two rooms in this building that locked were Arthur's office, for obvious reasons, and the armoury, for equally obvious reasons.

Zoe knocked at Arthur's door, but there was no response. That wasn't unusual for this time of day, so she tried to open the door. The handle wouldn't turn. Odd, Zoe thought, trying again. Normally Arthur, left his room unlocked out of consideration for the people who worked to clean his rooms, or to clean his clothes, or even the special care he got from the kitchen workers, who sent his meals up to him if he didn't come get them. It still didn't open, so she turned to the door on the opposite side of the corridor, the one that led to Arthur's office, and knocked.

'Come in,' Arthur called from inside.

Zoe opened the door and walked in. She remembered this room from her first day in this time. It was still cluttered with those wax tablets that the Romans used to write messages on, and there were shelves in his room with expensive scrolls on them. One was open on his desk when Zoe walked in.

'Sir, I've come to return your clothes, and I wouldn't disturb you, but your room is locked,' Zoe said quietly, fighting the urge she had to curtsey to Arthur.

He looked tired, and worried. His hair was messier than usual, his face was stubbled and there were bags under his eyes. And he smelled like he needed a wash.

'Ah, Zoe. May I talk to you for a moment?'

Frowning in puzzlement, Zoe nodded and put the laundry down on a space Arthur cleared for her on the table.

'Shut the door, please,' Arthur requested, rolling up the scroll and pushing it to the side, grabbing one of the wax tablets from the pile on his desk and putting it in front of him. Picking up a stylus used for writing on it, he scribbled something while Zoe did as he had asked and closed the door.

'I understand you ran into Tristan a few nights ago when he was scouting for me,' Arthur began, fiddling with the stylus in his hands.

'I did, sir.'

'And he told you of the woads who are scouting the fort for a possible attack?'

'He did, sir.'

'This is important, so I want you to think very clearly. Have you told anyone about them?' Arthur's eyes, usually so striking, were almost shining with the intensity of his gaze.

'Why would it be important if I had?' Zoe asked, taking the seat opposite him. His eyebrows raised for a moment-she hadn't been asked to sit, and neither had she answered the question.

'I will explain, just give me your promise that you have not said anything,' Arthur pressed, leaning forwards, tapping the stylus on the desk for emphasis.

'Tristan asked me not to, sir,' Zoe answered, shifting uncomfortably on the chair.

Arthur frowned, and Zoe could see he was getting impatient. 'Just answer the question, please.'

'I did as he asked,' Zoe replied.

Arthur sighed, and leaned back in his chair. 'Thank you, Zoe.'

'Sir? You said you would explain your reasons, and I want to hear them,' Zoe said. 'I trust you, but…I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing.'

'I understand. And I will ask you not to discuss this with anyone,' Arthur said, waiting for Zoe's nod before continuing. 'The woads often scout the fort, particularly while the knights are absent. What protected the fort for this long was winter, they were delayed just like us by the heavy snow. Now that winter's almost over, they're looking to attack again. However, they rarely attack the fort, so, despite their presence, they pose no threat except to people who find them accidentally, as you were about to when Tristan saw you.'

'I did think it was strange that Tristan was there,' Zoe admitted.

'He was out scouting for me. He wouldn't have been there if he hadn't seen the woads as we returned from our mission,' Arthur said, smiling tiredly. 'You will keep this secret, won't you, Zoe?'

'If you ask me to, sir,' Zoe said, nodding.

'Thank you.'

'I'm not putting my friends in danger, am I?'

'Attacks on the fort or village are rare, Zoe. If word reached civilians about woads in the area, they'd panic. It's better if we leave the woads to target the Roman military,' Arthur explained patiently. 'If that's all, I'll unlock my chambers and leave you to your work.'

Zoe nodded, still not convinced that she needed to keep quiet about the woads, and the two of them stood up. Then, Jols, who looked rather rushed and a little disturbed, pushed the door to Arthur's office open abruptly. 'Woads, sir. The legion is holding them off at the walls, but some have made it into the yard. Everyone's been called out.'

Arthur was out of the room in a flash, and opening the door to his chambers with the key. 'Zoe, stay close to me until I can find someone to take you to the laundry. Jols, my armour.'

'Sir-' Jols started to protest, but Arthur cut him off quickly.

'Now, Jols,' he said in a tone that made protesting impossible for the man. 'Zoe, follow me.'

Zoe scurried across the corridor, looking around as if woads were about to jump around the corner at her and dumped Arthur's clothes on his bed. She watched as Jols slipped a chainmail shirt over Arthur's head and began to tie the leather strips to secure the sleeves in place.

'Make yourself useful, get Excalibur,' Jols commanded, jerking his head over to Arthur's weapons stand.

Zoe jumped, startled, and grabbed the sword from where it was resting. She was surprised by the weight of it and brought it over to Arthur before asking if there was anything else Arthur would like from the stand.

'The knife just to the left of Excalibur, yes, that one,' Arthur said as he strapped Excalibur to his left hip. 'The dagger on the top right, yes, good, and the small axe on the bottom right.'

Zoe, hands full and arms straining with the weight of it all, brought it over to Arthur and Jols. Jols deftly tightened Arthur's forearm guards, and Arthur reached for the weapons. He buckled the dagger to his right hip, slid the knife in his belt next to his sword and the axe next to the dagger, hanging by its head.

Jols grabbed a large shield with a Roman eagle painted on it and offered it to Arthur rather pointedly. Arthur slipped his arm through the straps, which were then tightened by Jols, without a word. Jols looked Arthur over and nodded in approval.

'Sir-' Jols began again.

'Zoe, follow me. Jols, you know what to do,' Arthur commanded, leaving the chambers in a brisk walk.

Zoe followed obediently, suddenly frightened. It hit her all of a sudden that there was an attack, that there were men outside who were actually looking to kill other men, and anyone who got in the way. Including her. Actually, she would probably be killed for simply being with Arthur, who was unmistakeably Roman.

Lancelot came striding towards Arthur. He had a small, round shield in his right hand and an unsheathed sword in his left. Zoe remembered that he'd had broken fingers in his right hand and guessed that it made him unable to grip a sword properly, because he usually preferred to fight with double swords, if what the girls in the laundry said was correct. Then Zoe remembered that Arthur had a wound in his side.

'Arthur, you cannot fight,' Lancelot said, in a tone Zoe had never heard from him before. All traces of the frivolous, flirtatious man were gone and, in their place was a man totally focused on his work. And his work was fighting.

'And you cannot tell me what to do, Lancelot,' Arthur replied, still walking.

'You could re-open your wound, you're not healed yet!' Lancelot protested. He grabbed Arthur's mail-clad arm to halt him and Zoe nearly crashed into the Roman's back. 'Listen to me!' Lancelot demanded, shaking Arthur's arm.

'I am listening, but I am capable of fighting, my injury isn't bad enough to make me sit and watch and wait for your corpses to come back,' Arthur said. It sounded as if this was an argument that the two of them had had before.

'We won't die because you aren't with us. Arthur, you will do nobody any good if you bleed out,' Lancelot, too, sounded weary of this argument, but insistent all the same.

'Lancelot we have no time for this. If you're so worried about me, stay close,' Arthur said firmly, wrenching his arm free of Lancelot's grip and moving forward, ignoring Lancelot's growl of frustration. Zoe followed the two of them silently, listening as the noises of battle outside got louder.

'Galahad!' Arthur yelled as he walked through the Round Table room, Lancelot at his side and Zoe in their wake. 'Are you armed?'

The young knight kicked the door to his room closed and slid a dagger in his belt next to his sword. 'Now I am,' he told Arthur, grinning a little nervously.

Zoe could see that Galahad wore leather instead of chain mail, but he, too, had a sword and a shield strapped to his arm. His shield was green, Zoe noticed absently, still looking around for woads.

Arthur grabbed Zoe and pushed her towards Galahad. 'Take her back to the laundry, make sure the girls don't leave until one of us comes for them.'

Galahad nodded and grabbed Zoe's arm in exactly the same place as Tristan had. Zoe winced as Galahad's fingers closed around the bruises the scout had left on her arm. Fuck, these guys are going to have to stop dragging me places, Zoe thought. At least Arthur was gentler.

'Come on. We've got to hurry,' the knight said as he pulled her through the now-familiar corridors back to the laundry. Zoe heard some screams from outside and clashing metal and felt sick. She caught several glimpses through the narrow windows of men fighting, but she couldn't make out any details as Galahad pulled her down the stairs that led to the laundry. She felt like screaming, screaming and lying down and crying and hoping that everything would just go away.

'What's going to happen?' Zoe asked, her voice trembling as the two of them reached the laundry. Galahad wrenched the door open to the screams of girls as Zoe tried to control her breathing and ignore the sounds of battle.

'Nothing's going to happen to you. We'll make sure of it,' Galahad promised. His voice was soothing, but he didn't meet Zoe's eyes. That, and the particularly gruesome scream that came from somewhere outside made Zoe's blood run cold.

Galahad pushed her gently through the doorway, told her to barricade it and keep the girls quiet before shutting it in her face. Zoe leant against the wall and prayed that nobody would come here until after the fighting was over, that she'd come out of this alive, that she wouldn't get hurt, that her friends and the knights would all be alright at the end.

'What'd he say?'

'What's going on?'

'Who's attacking?'

'Are we going to die?'

The questions poured in from all around Zoe, as her friends, and the other girls working there pressed close. Zoe turned away from the wall, having almost forgotten that there were other people here and shook her head, trying to stop herself from crying. Outside, she could hear noise of clashing metal, trampling feet, shouted instructions, woadish war cries and the screams of dying men.

'Hey!' Lucia's stern voice cut off the flood of questions. 'Whatever's going on, it obviously isn't good, so we obviously don't want to draw attention down here. Shut up and barricade the door first, then we can ask Zoe what's going on.'

The girls nodded and moved to grab the furniture while Lucia led Zoe away from the door to clear their paths and over to the other side of the room. Zoe was shaking and she gripped Lucia's hand tightly, hoping that the door was as solid as it seemed to be.

'Zoe, I need you to calm down,' Lucia murmured in Zoe's ear, rubbing her back as soothingly as was possible for a woman like her. Zoe could tell that she was already uncomfortable with their position, so she took a few deep, albeit shaky breaths and stepped away.

'What should I do?' Zoe asked, wiping her palms on her dress.

'For now, just help the others moving the furniture. When that's done, you need to tell us what's going on and what we need to do.'

'Why me?' Zoe asked, looking around wildly. 'Why not you?'

'You were just with the knights,' Lucia said simply, as if it was obvious.

There was a particularly close, and gruesome scream from outside, and the two of them flinched. Lucia took a deep breath and moved to help Evelyn drag a table over to the door, but Zoe had to lean on the wall for a second. She didn't like this, not at all. She wanted to be back where she belonged, not here, where men were fighting and dying on the other side of the stone she was leaning on.

By the time Zoe felt a bit calmer, the furniture was piled up against the door. It probably wasn't the most effective way to barricade the door, but seeing it made Zoe feel a little safer.

'Zoe?' Liliana called, holding out her hand. 'You have something to tell us from the knights, yes?'

Zoe took her friend's hand and nodded, letting Liliana lead her to the corner where the other girls were huddled. Lucia looked the calmest, almost indifferent to the screaming going on outside. The only sign she was any more disturbed than normal were her eyes, which were constantly flicking to where the loudest screams came from. Blanchefleur was gripping tightly to her skirt, making her knuckles turn white with tension. She looked nervous and angry, but not afraid. Evelyn looked afraid; she was clinging to Blanchefleur and weeping softly into her shoulder. There were three other girls, sisters who lived in the town called Casta, Anora and Kalare. They were all pale and shaking, holding tightly to each other's hands and flinching at screams from outside. The last girl was the frizzy-haired one who Zoe had helped carry laundry up to the knights' quarters shortly after she'd first started working here. The frizzy-haired girl was called Bellona, Zoe remembered.

When Zoe and Liliana sat down with them Bellona nearly hurled herself at Zoe, tears and snot pouring down her face. 'I'm so scared,' she cried.

'Be quiet,' Blanchefleur snapped, her voice barely carrying to Bellona. 'Keep on like that and I'll start to believe you want them to find us.'

'I was with Arthur, and Arthur promised he'd protect us. Galahad promised the same thing. All we have to do is sit quietly and wait for them to come get us,' Zoe said with as much confidence as she could muster.

Lucia nodded approvingly, Blanchefleur smiled tightly at Zoe and Evelyn's crying stopped after a little while. Everyone seemed to agree to wait silently, but nobody thought how hard it would be to just wait.

Sitting there, with only a door and a pile of furniture protecting them from whatever was out there, Zoe realized exactly how vulnerable she really was. If they really wanted to, the woads could come in, break down the door and kill them all with very little effort on their parts.

Zoe listened, afraid to even move, for footsteps outside the door, or for a knock on it, or for voices. But all she heard was quiet crying from Bellona and the sounds of the battle outside.

And she waited.

While she waited, men died outside.

It felt like forever, just sitting there in a cold room, on hard stone, waiting for someone to come to the door. Seconds felt like hours. It was hard, so hard, to just sit there and stay quiet. Lucia grabbed some clothes that needed to be mended and, with a calmness that was disturbing, kept working.

'How can you do that now?' Evelyn asked angrily. She was so pale she looked like a ghost.

'Would you rather I go into hysterics? Sit there weeping and dwelling on death and pain like the rest of you? Well I can't,' Lucia hissed, eyes darting to the door as if by speaking she would draw the woads down to her.

'She's right,' Kalare, a girl Zoe had barely talked with before, said in a shaking voice. 'If we can't do anything now, perhaps we can get ready to help when we're let out.'

'How?' Zoe asked. 'It's not like any of us has medical training.'

'We can make bandages,' Kalare suggested.

'With what? With Gawain's spare tunic? I'm sure he'll be thrilled once he finds out that we tore it apart when, in all likelihood, the doctor has enough bandages for everyone,' Zoe snapped.

'We got some bedding sent down. It's washed, and dried. It should do for bandages, without the destruction of personal property,' Liliana said. 'Kalare's right, Zoe. Calm down, please.'

'How can I calm down when at any moment there's going to be woads pounding on the door thirsty for our blood?' Zoe asked, standing up and beginning to pace.

'You're getting hysterical and pathetic,' Lucia said, looking up from her mending. 'I'll help make bandages.'

Zoe watched as the girls, one by one, decided to help with the bandages and felt incredibly foolish and rather guilty. She'd been doing nothing but worrying about herself when there were soldiers all around her dying to protect her, her friends and everyone in the village. She didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things.

So she tried to be brave, like the others, and tried to ignore the screaming outside and focused on tearing up the freshly laundered sheets into strips appropriate for bandages.

Every so often somebody would glance over at the door, or flinch at a scream from outside, but mostly, it was better to have something to do with her hands while she waited. Her head started to hurt; she was desperately thirsty, rather hungry and very scared. But now that she was doing something, it was somehow better.

The problem was what to do after they'd finished tearing up the sheets. In the absence of anything better to do, the screams from outside and the sounds of fighting seemed that much louder and that much closer.

'I don't know how much more I can take, Lucia,' Zoe murmured, leaning on the woman's shoulder, trying to block out the screaming.

'As much as you have to,' Lucia said calmly.

'You're really disturbing, you know that? We're trapped. There are people out there dying, killing each other and we can't do anything? We're right in the fucking middle of it and you sit here sewing!' Zoe hissed, sitting up and gesturing in the direction of the battle outside, where the sound of men groaning in pain was closer than the sound of battle.

'I don't know how it was where you came from, but men die all the time here. Sickness, starvation, accident, old age, battle, it doesn't matter, but they die. We live with soldiers, we love soldiers. There are risks involved with loving them, with living with them. Get used to this,' Lucia replied, looking up at Zoe with her calm dark eyes.

Zoe trembled, not knowing if she wanted to strangle Lucia or scream for all she was worth. Liliana hurried over and slung and arm around Zoe's shoulder. 'You know, you never told us which special man caught your eye,' Liliana said, in a blatant attempt to distract Zoe.

Zoe looked at her incredulously. 'We are trapped in a laundry, with woads attacking the building with nothing to fight back with and there is a possibility that we die today and you want to know what man I was looking for? You're crazy!'

'On top of that, I desperately need the toilet, but we can't have everything, now can we? And I wouldn't want to die without knowing,' Liliana said, trying to lighten the mood.

Zoe started to giggle. At first it was just a soft laugh, but then it grew until she was desperately trying to smother it with her hands and Bellona was begging her to calm down and keep quiet. It wasn't a nice laugh either, it had a sharp, hysterical edge to it that made Liliana shift away nervously.

'You're hopeless. Absolutely hopeless,' she gasped, looking around frantically at the other girls. They were all looking at Zoe. Casta and Anora had tears pouring down their faces; Bellona had her hands pressed over her mouth. Blanchefleur looked angry, Evelyn pale but determined, Liliana had a look of forced frivolity on her face. _Apparently she was a strong believer in 'make the best of a bad situation',_ Zoe thought, a little giddily.

'It's a better question than 'Do you think we'll get out of this alive?' or 'Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?'' Liliana protested.

'No, those are good questions, because we're doomed. It's been too long since we locked ourselves in,' Anora suddenly said, pointing to the shadows on the floor, which had moved a considerable distance since the beginning of the attack. 'The woads are winning.'

Zoe started to shake. She was going to die here, thousands of years from her home. If she'd just been at home none of this would have happened. She would be…out shopping with Suze, meeting boys with Brit and making her boyfriend jealous, curled up on a sofa with a book, something non-life threatening. She'd be doing something where nobody would be dying.

Casta walked over to her sister and slapped her on the face. 'Don't be so stupid. Get a hold of yourself. Have the knights ever failed to protect the village before?'

Anora looked like she was going to retaliate when a scream of agony ripped through the air, making even Lucia flinch. Zoe screamed too, trying to block the sound out, and leant back against a wall, sliding down it with her hands over her ears and her eyes tightly shut. She couldn't take any more of this. She just couldn't.

'It's not real, it's not real, it's not real,' Zoe said to herself in English, speaking it aloud for the first time in months. She squeezed her eyes as tightly closed as she could, trying to block both the reality around her out and keep her tears in.

'Zoe? Is there a problem?' Liliana asked in Celtic, kneeling next to Zoe and putting a large hand on the smaller girl's shoulder.

'It's not real, it's not real, it's not real.'

'Of course there's a problem. Remember-trapped in a laundry, can't go outside because of the people attacking, we can't defend ourselves, you need to go to the bathroom, I've got a headache and Zoe's last encounter with woads left her caravan dead,' Blanchefleur snapped. 'Do you think that possibly any of them could contribute to this?'

'It's not real, it's not real, it's not real.'

'Zoe, please, calm down. Please, it'll all be all right. Arthur promised, didn't he? It'll be all right,' Liliana tried to calm Zoe down, hugging her tightly, stroking her hair, talking to her as if Zoe was a young child who had just had a nightmare.

Zoe was rocking back and forwards, shaking Liliana's comforting hands off. 'It's not real, it can't be real, it's not real.'

'Oh, you're all being stupid,' Lucia said. 'Stand back.'

Then a sharp pain bloomed across Zoe's face, making her stop in her tracks. She pressed one hand to a cheek that seemed unnaturally warm, looking up in astonishment at Lucia.

'You slapped me,' Zoe said.

'Yes, I did. You were hysterical.'

'Oh…thank you,' Zoe said, shaking. She didn't stand up again, but when Liliana moved to sit next to her, she leant into the comfort Liliana was wordlessly offering, burying her head in the other's shoulder and trying to pretend there wasn't a battle going on outside.

Evelyn sat down on Zoe's other side and leaned in, too. Bellona collapsed next to Liliana and Blanchefleur curled up in front of Evelyn. Kalare and her two sisters joined them on the floor, all of them staring at the door. Lucia, after looking at them coolly for a few moments, sat down in front of Zoe and buried her face in Zoe's shoulder. Lucia was trembling. She was scared, just like the rest of them. Zoe wrapped an arm around the older woman, pulling her closer.

They sat like that, listening to the moans outside and the distant sounds of battle, for a long time. Zoe's legs got stiff and sore from Lucia resting so much of her weight on them, but she didn't move. They were all watching the door, too drained of energy to cry in a silent vigil.

The sounds of battle dwindled as they sat together. Gradually, the light in the laundry faded and still nobody said anything. And in the quiet, the sound of footsteps coming towards the door was obscenely loud.

The door shook. Zoe held her breath.

xxx

A/N: First of all-merry Christmas and a happy new year to everyone reading. Second-thank you to my lovely beta, homeric, for all the hard work and the very encouraging comments. You managed to pick out exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote it! Third-to all the reviewers, thank you. You guys are brilliant and very encouraging. And even if you just read and don't review-you're cool too. It's nice to know that people read this. Last-any concrit you have is very much appreciated, and reviews of all kinds are awesome.

Again, merry Christmas and a happy new year!

Disclaimer: Do not own King Arthur. I was very disappointed when Santa didn't bring me gift-wrapped knights for Christmas.


	16. The Smell of Blood

**16. The Smell of Blood**

'Girls?' a familiar voice yelled as the door rattled again.

'Percival!' Blanchefleur shrieked. She was off her feet before any of the other girls had even registered who it was.

'Oh thank God,' Evelyn breathed, practically melting into Zoe's side. For her part, Zoe trembled with relief, unable to move. Lucia merely sighed and pulled herself away from Zoe, turning away and brushing her dress free of wrinkles.

Liliana laughed, hugging Zoe tighter to her. 'We made it. We made it.'

'Percival, are you alright?' Blanchefleur pulled frantically at the barricade of furniture, sending some of it tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter.

'Don't do that. Leave whatever you've got against the door there,' Percival ordered.

'No! I want to get out of here!' Blanchefleur threw a few more pieces of furniture away from the door.

'Don't be so childish,' Lucia said, gliding over to the door. 'What's the status of the battle?' she asked, as casually as though she were enquiring about the weather.

'Victory for us, we're just moving our wounded and driving the last woads away. It's not safe to go out yet, but we won,' Percival said. He sounded tired, and he was breathing quite heavily.

'And you? Are you injured?' Blanchefleur asked, pressing herself to the wall next to the door.

'Not seriously. Wait here, someone will come for you when it's safe enough for you to go home. I've got to go,' Percival said, and his footsteps receded until the girls were left in silence again.

'We're safe? We're not going to die?' Anora asked, from where she was huddled next to her sisters.

'No. If Percival says we've won, we've won,' Lucia said.

Liliana laughed. It was a short, uncontrollable bubble of laughter that she quickly smothered, looking at the other girls guiltily. When her eyes met Casta's, Casta started to giggle, before blushing and pressing her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress them. Soon all the girls were laughing in a pile on the floor. Zoe was laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheeks, her stomach hurt and she could barely breathe. There wasn't anything funny, they weren't laughing because something was humorous. They were doing it because they could.

'I don't see how you can laugh. There's men out there dying right now. It's not funny. Not in the slightest,' Lucia said disdainfully, watching the tangle of laughing girls.

And that had the same affect as a bucket of cold water. Slowly they all stood up, standing in sombre silence. Anora had an arm around Casta's waist, and Kalare was gripping her hand tightly.

'Do any of you have men out there to worry about?' Liliana asked suddenly, looking at the three of them.

'My betrothed. He's not a soldier, but he works in the kitchens. It's not as safe there as it is here,' Casta answered.

'My brother, Aleron,' Bellona said. 'He works with the horses. He always tells me not to worry about him, that working with the knights isn't dangerous, but...'

'My cousin's in the kitchens too,' Blanchefleur whispered, just loud enough so that everyone could hear. 'And Percival's still out there.'

'Gawain,' Zoe said softly, so softly that only Liliana heard her. The blond knight was still out there fighting. Maybe he'd been hurt. Maybe he'd killed. Now that she knew she was safe, all of Zoe's fears for Gawain, for all the knights, came rushing back.

Liliana's arm curled around Zoe's shoulders, pulling the smaller girl into her side. 'He'll be fine. He's a good fighter,' Liliana whispered to Zoe.

Zoe was incredibly grateful that Liliana wasn't making a big deal over her admission that Gawain was someone special to her, but she knew her friend was smirking inside. She poked Liliana's ribs, and the girl yelped, jumping away from Zoe. She's forgotten Liliana was ticklish.

'Mean,' Liliana accused, mock-glaring at Zoe.

'And?' Zoe asked, smirking.

'And we need to be ready to leave as soon as they come for us,' Lucia interrupted.

'You always spoil our fun, Lucia,' Liliana pouted, turning to gather up the bandages that they'd made despite her words.

'You think this is fun?' Lucia snapped.

'Of course not. I know that there are men out there who fought to keep me, my family and my friends safe, and that they are dying, or that they're dead already. But for now, I'm happy to be alive.'

The other girls ignored the heated exchange and gathered their things. Their cloaks were fastened around their necks, the laundry returned more or less to order. The girls stood around, waiting for the knights to arrive and take them home.

They all cheered when they heard footsteps coming towards them and, when Bors told them to open the bloody door, they did it in a matter of seconds.

When the door opened they found the big knight, covered in blood and other muck with Lamorak and three Roman soldiers, not nearly as pristine as they had undoubtedly been before the attack.

'Right, girls, we're your escort home. There's still some of those woad buggers running about, so don't run away without us,' Bors said.

'Is Percival all right?' Blanchefleur asked, pushing through the others to get to Bors and Lamorak.

'He's fine. Not hurt too bad, just a bit of a graze on his neck,' Bors said. 'Now, are we going home or what?'

The girls all agreed and started to file out of the laundry and waited for the men to lead them away.

'I just want to sleep,' Evelyn said, leaning on Liliana.

'I want to see my brother,' Bellona said, holding tightly to Casta's hand while she spoke softly to one of the soldiers. What she heard seemed to relax her, because she smiled and spontaneously hugged the soldier, unconcerned about the blood, mud and other things that transferred from his clothes to hers.

'Do they need help in the infirmary?' Lucia asked Lamorak.

'Any help they can get. Zoe, Braewyn's asked that you come up and help,' the knight replied. 'It's not safe to go anywhere without a weapon, so follow me.'

Lucia picked up the bandages that they'd made and handed some to Zoe as they said goodbye to the other girls. 'See you…whenever,' Zoe said, waving tiredly at Evelyn, Blanchefleur and Lilana.

'I'll come to your house tomorrow,' Evelyn promised. The other two just waved back as Bors and the three Roman soldiers took up positions around the group of girls.

'Where'd you get the bandages?' Lamorak asked, leading Zoe and Lucia up the familiar corridors towards the infirmary.

'Made them,' Lucia replied calmly.

Lamorak looked over at her, and she apparently felt the need to elaborate. 'We were useless, sitting there. We needed to do something that might help.'

'Good thinking,' Lamorak said, nodding at the two of them. 'Watch your feet.'

Zoe looked down and nearly gagged. There were puddles and drips and smears of blood in the corridor, all leading in one direction.

'Why's there blood?' Zoe asked, surprised at the shakiness of her voice. 'Did you fight in here?'

'No. This is the quickest way to the infirmary from the doors.'

'So much blood,' Zoe said, staring at a red handprint on the wall.

'Snap out of it,' Lucia hissed, grabbing her bicep tightly, digging her fingernails in. 'Of course there's going to be blood, Zoe.'

Zoe nodded. Of course there was going to be blood. She shook her head and took a deep breath through her mouth. She could help, Braewyn had asked for her help. She was going to help.

'How many men?' Lucia asked Lamorak.

'Too many. Marius, the Roman physician, has too many for him to handle, and the others who've got knowledge of healing are working as hard as they can in the Roman barracks. Braewyn's doing her best, but she's all alone. I can't treat much more than scrapes, so there's a lot of soldiers bleeding in there.'

The two girls, noticing the anger and self-reproach in his voice, said nothing and walked silently. Lucia walked with purpose, head up, eyes surveying and assessing everything the saw. Zoe, however, was trembling. All the blood was getting to her, and she grew more and more afraid of what she would find in the infirmary.

'We're here,' Lamorak said, opening the doors. 'Remember, don't leave without one of us. It's not safe.'

The infirmary was full of men. All the beds were occupied, and there were even men standing, sitting or lying in between them. The smell of blood was terrible and coppery and it made Zoe feel queasy.

She tried to ignore the screams of the men in there, tried to ignore the moaning, but the sight seemed to be burned onto her eyelids. There was a man, a Roman soldier, three beds from the door, whose intestines were visible, pale and slimy through the blood pumping from the wound that bisected his stomach. He was writhing and screaming, even as another man moved to sit on the bed, talking to him and pressing blood-slick hands to the wound and calling for some rags.

Another Roman, a few more beds down on the other side of the room, had a crushed leg. Zoe could see splinters of bone, his tendons and muscles mangled and mixed with the bone fragments. Blood was pumping out of his leg, despite the tourniquet. The man's face was pale, and he wasn't screaming, he was crying silently.

Braewyn was standing at his side, covered in blood like some crazed witch rather than the sweet old lady Zoe knew she was. She beckoned Lamorak to her, and the knight walked over. A few words were exchanged, and he nodded and walked away swiftly. Braewyn pressed down on the tourniquet, and the man on the bed let out an unnatural scream, his face twisting in agony as blood oozed around Braewyn's hands.

Zoe tried to look away, but her eyes were drawn instead to the worst sight of them all. A grizzled old veteran was lying on a blanket, and four of his comrades were picking it, and him, up. A younger Roman was pleading with them, grabbing tightly to the blanket despite a bloodied bandage on his leg and a cut down his face, but the veteran shook his head.

'I'm dying. They got me good in the guts. No fucking hope,' the older man said, his face twisted in pain.

'No. You know about this witch. She can help you. She can help you!' the younger man was saying, even as the veteran was carried out past Zoe. As he was carried out, the blanket he was on dripped blood on the floor, and, when Zoe glanced inside the blanket, she saw that his intestines had been slashed open, and she guessed his bowels must have been hit, too, because there was a terrible smell in the air around him.

Zoe gagged, leaning against the wall for support and closing her eyes. She didn't think she could deal with this. This was worse than waiting in the laundry to find out if she was going to be killed or not. _This wouldn't happen at home, this wouldn't happen. There'd be a proper hospital with doctors and nurses and antibiotics and morphine and bandages and proper surgery and…_

'Zoe, Lucia, come help us,' Braewyn called, beckoning the two girls over and shocking Zoe out of her panicked thoughts. Lucia went willingly, Zoe considerably less so.

'Hold his body down, Lucia, if you please, Zoe, take his other leg. Lamorak, if you would…' Braewyn looked over her shoulder and moved away to grab something out of the room's one fireplace. It was a metal rod, glowing red with the heat of the flames.

'When do you want me to…?' Lamorak asked, holding a sharp-looking saw in his hand.

'Whenever you're ready,' Braewyn said. 'Girls, hold on tight.'

_No anesthetic_, Zoe thought hazily, watching as Lamorak rested the knife against an undamaged part of the man's leg, a little more than an inch up from where it turned to bloody pulp. She tore her eyes away and grabbed the Roman's other leg and dragged it off the bed so she could sit on the floor as Lucia sat on his chest, holding his arms down.

_No painkillers, no morphine, no sterilization and oh God they're cutting his leg off right next to me!_ Zoe thought, clutching tight to the wounded Roman's leg and closing her eyes. They were going to cut the leg off, and she didn't want to have to see it. She didn't want to be anywhere near it. She didn't want to be here.

She sat on the floor, holding the man's leg as it kicked and jerked. She heard his groaning as Lamorak sawed away at his flesh. She smelt burning meat as Braewyn cauterized the wound and she gagged again. Her head spun and she pressed it against the now-limp leg trying to breathe deeply through her mouth, so she wouldn't have to smell the poor Roman's flesh as it burned.

'Done. Pass me a bandage, Lucia. They're sitting next to the bed. On your right, yes, thank you,' Braewyn said, winding the requested bandage tightly around what was left of the the man's leg.

Zoe stood up, and watched in disgusted fascination as Braewyn tied the bandage over the stump that used to have a leg attached to it.

'He'll probably live,' Braewyn said, straightening and kneading her back as best she could. 'Zoe, I need you and Lamorak to run down and get some more things from the storeroom. There's more of the ointment I put on wounds down there, as well as some for burns and more bandages and rags. If you could fetch them, please? Burn ointment has yellow thread tied to it, the one for wounds has red. Lucia, you can help me here.' Then the old lady was gone, onto the next bed. She shook her head at the soldier lying inside, ignoring his pleas for her help and moved on.

'Braewyn?' Zoe asked, scuttling after the old woman in an attempt to stay close. 'What about him?'

'He'll die no matter what I do. There's people here I can save who need me quickly. Now shoo, go with Lamorak,' Braewyn gently pushed Zoe towards the door, where Lamorak was waiting.

'But you have to try!' Zoe protested. 'You can't just let him die!'

'There's nothing I can do,' Braewyn answered briskly, looking regretfully at the dying Roman.

_This wouldn't happen at home. If he had proper medical care, a real doctor, he'd survive_, Zoe thought, letting Braewyn push her towards Lamorak.

'Remember-'

'Bandages, rags, burn ointment with the yellow threat, wound stuff with the red thread,' Zoe recited, trying not to think of the doomed man in the infirmary. 'I'll bring as much as I can carry.'

'Good girl. Now hurry!'

'Where am I taking you?' Lamorak asked as Zoe picked her way through the wounded men and to the doorway where he was standing.

'Storeroom,' Zoe replied, walking through familiar corridors rendered menacing by puddles or drops of blood.

'Lamorak,' Zoe said suddenly, not looking at the knight. 'Do you know about the other knights? If they're all unhurt, I mean.'

'We were fighting for most of a day, do you think we'd come out uninjured?' Lamorak snapped. He sighed when Zoe flinched and rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'Sorry. You didn't deserve that.'

Zoe didn't say anything, just opened the door to the storeroom anyway. 'But do you know what's happened to everyone?'

'Bors is getting treated at home-he's only got small cuts on his hands and Vanora can treat them well enough. Just wash and wait. Dinadan got his nose broken-again. He'll scare all the ladies away, because the hit that broke his nose cut his cheek and it's going to scar pretty badly. Bedivere's hands are wrecked worse than Bors', but that's because he was fighting with a dagger. Some bloody woad knocked his sword out of his hands. Dag's arm's broken, but I know how to splint stuff, so I did that and sent him to his rooms. Caradoc's just got small cuts all over him-nothing too serious. Percival got a grazed neck from an arrow. An inch to the left and…'

Lamorak trailed off when he saw how pale Zoe was. 'Did I say something wrong?'

'No. No. It's just that…' Zoe took a deep breath while she tried to figure out some way of saying this without saying I'm from the future and I've never seen this much blood before in my life. 'It's...I know these men, and they're literally inches from death, and I'm not used to it because stuff like this just doesn't happen where I come from.'

'Get used to it. It happens a lot here,' Lamorak said bitterly.

'And…Arthur? And Gawain? What about them? Lancelot and Galahad, they're not…dead, are they?' Zoe asked as she found what Braewyn had asked her to collect.

'Nobody's seen them. Percival went out looking with Caradoc, and Tristan's somewhere out there.'

'Tristan's not badly hurt, then?'

'Even if he was, he'd have to faint before he shows up in the infirmary. Crazy bastard,' Lamorak said, arms full of bandages and rags. 'Want a hand?'

Zoe nodded and shoved as many jars of paste or ointment or whatever it was at Lamorak as he could deal with, and then took just as many in her own arms.

'What is this, anyway?' Lamorak asked.

'Burn paste-stuff, I've seen Braewyn making it, for helping the people whose wounds have been cauterized, I guess,' Zoe said. It was much easier to talk about these things when they weren't right in front of her, she discovered. 'The ones with the red thread are for wounds; Braewyn said that the herbs they're made of stop things from festering, and encourage healing.'

'You sound like Marius,' Lamorak complained.

'Marius?'

'The Roman physician. I asked him to teach me how to deal with wounds and stuff, but he just babbled on about Humours and prayer and a bunch of shit that doesn't have anything to do with the fact that your blood's leaking out of your body.'

'Well I just know what Braewyn's told me. I've helped her make these things before and she told me what they were supposed to do.'

Lamorak just grunted and left the room, with Zoe following. 'You do know that if a woad jumps out at us, these jars are going to be dropped.'

'If a woad jumps out at us my first thought will obviously be for the jars,' Zoe replied, with a faint attempt at her usual humour.

Lamorak let out a sharp bark of laughter, and continued walking. They'd made it about halfway to the infirmary when they saw two men limping ahead with them, heading in the same direction. The taller man was leaning on his slightly shorter companion and struggling to remain upright.

'Arthur!' Lamorak called. He shoved the jars at Zoe and ran to his commander, ignoring Zoe's protest and the sound of shattering pottery. At least the rags and bandages weren't soaked in them. Zoe, careful of her thin boots, dodged around the pottery fragments to reach the knights.

'You take his other side, we've got to get him to Braewyn,' Lancelot was saying.

Lamorak slung Arthur's other arm around his shoulder and Lancelot pressed his hands against Arthur's side as hard as he could. There was blood covering his hands, and Zoe hoped not all of it was Arthur's. The man was pale and he looked like he would barely be able to make it to the infirmary.

Lamorak glanced over his shoulder at Zoe. 'Keep up,' he demanded.

Zoe nodded, and she did keep up, although a few more jars were lost on the way.

By the time they reached it, Arthur's head was lolling about, and he was practically unconscious. Lancelot took in the crowded infirmary and muttered something that sounded like 'Cador's room'. Lamorak nodded and the two of them turned towards the knights' quarters.

'Zoe, get Braewyn, tell her it's Arthur,' Lancelot ordered.

Zoe walked back into the infirmary, forcing herself not to look at the blood and the dying men and walked over to Braewyn, completely disregarding what she and Lucia were doing. 'Braewyn, Arthur's wounded. Bad. Lancelot said to get you.'

'Put the supplies over on the bench before you drop them,' Lucia said, not looking away from the injured man.

Zoe let out a noise of exasperated impatience and dumped her things on the bench. She stomped back over to the bed but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who it was.

'Oh God,' Zoe whispered. She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach and her knees buckled, sending her to the floor at the side of the bed. 'It's Gawain.'

He was covered in blood. Even the crude bandages across most of his chest and stomach were soaked in it. His face was splattered with blood, his hair was matted with it. And he wasn't moving. Or screaming. Or groaning. He was barely breathing.

'Gawain?' Zoe asked, putting one hand on the knight's arm and shaking him. 'Gawain?'

'He's unconscious and better off that way,' Lucia said. 'Braewyn, there's a Roman who needs me now.'

'Yes, yes, go,' Braewyn said. 'Galahad, press here.'

The younger knight, pale, but determined, did as Braewyn instructed and pressed a wad of new bandages over Gawain's stomach.

'Harder, you need to stop the bleeding,' Braewyn ordered.

Galahad nodded and did as he was told, not even looking perturbed when blood started seeping through the bandage he was holding to his friend's stomach, or when Gawain let out a soft, pained moan.

Zoe grabbed his wrist and tried to find a heartbeat. _Please, please don't die_. There was a pulse, but it was weak. Zoe glanced at Braewyn. The old woman's face was expressionless, which was a bad sign.

'How bad is Arthur?' Braewyn asked, looking up from Gawain. 'Is he as bad as this?'

'I-I don't know,' Zoe said, not able to tear her eyes away from Gawain.

Gawain had a large slash across his chest and stomach. Crude bandages were still bound across his chest, but the ones across his stomach were new, and were being held down by Galahad. They were rapidly becoming stained. Gawain was pale, paler than Galahad, paler than Arthur had been. He wasn't moving. He was barely breathing.

'Clean his wounds as best you can while I check on Arthur,' Braewyn ordered, pointing to a rag and water lying on the floor next to Galahad before leaving.

Galahad looked pleadingly at her, his eyes clearly begging her to do something for Gawain. Zoe looked around desperately for Lucia and some help, but a glance across the room showed Lamorak was back and helping Lucia cut someone's arm off while his comrades held him down. She was on her own.

Zoe took a deep breath and tried to ignore the smell of blood. Once she felt as calm as she would get in this situation, she carefully peeled some bandages away from Gawain's upper chest. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but, from the colour of the blood on Gawain's stomach, she guessed the wound got deeper further down.

'How did this happen?' Zoe asked, dipping the rag in water and dabbing gently at the crusted blood on Gawain's chest.

'Too many of them. One of them got in a hit,' Galahad said. He snorted in bitter amusement. 'He did kill the bitch, though.'

'A woman did this?'

'Woads train their women to fight,' Galahad said, not looking away from where his hands were pressed to Gawain's stomach.

Zoe didn't say anything, she just continued pulling bandages away and dabbing the skin clean of blood, trying to treat it as one large scraped knee. It wasn't working. Zoe felt like throwing up. 'I don't think I should take this off,' Zoe said, once she reached the bandages Galahad was holding down. They were still leaking blood.

'It's deepest here,' Galahad said.

'We should wait for Braewyn.'

'I'm here. Zoe, Arthur's not as badly off as Gawain. I need you to do exactly what I tell you.' Braewyn's bloody hand grabbed Zoe's and gripped it tightly. 'Promise.'

'What do you want me to do?' Zoe asked.

'Promise me that you'll do everything I tell you to. Quickly, quickly,' Braewyn insisted, squeezing Zoe's hand harder.

'I promise.'

'Arthur's in Cador's room, you need to go to him and take out the stitches Marius put in Arthur, and put in new ones. Tight, small stitches, ones with no chance of ripping apart on their own. Choose undamaged skin to sew so that they don't tear open anyway. Then you need to wipe all the blood away, and put some of this on his side,' Braewyn gave Zoe a jar with red thread tied around its neck. 'Bandage him up and make sure you tell Lancelot that he'll need to drink as soon as he wakes up. Water, not alcohol.'

'Why me?' Zoe asked. 'I can't do this!' Zoe set the jar down and wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head frantically. The thought of having to stitch skin together, to dig a needle in and pull thread through living flesh, to have blood ooze over her hands and to have Arthur's life resting in them made Zoe gag.

'You can, you promised to and you will because you don't want Arthur to die. Lucia will be working on other men. Men with more serious injuries. I'll be working on Gawain. You're the only one left.' With that, Braewyn pulled Galahad's hands away from the remaining bandage and then pulled it off. What Zoe saw, coupled with what she had promised to do made her knees weak and she felt sick and dizzy and she just couldn't take it. The hours of fear while she'd been trapped in a laundry, completely defenceless. The blood. The screams. The dying men all around her. Now this.

She ran outside the infirmary, away from the men bleeding and groaning and dying in it. She ended up in a corridor near the knights quarters, on her hands and knees, crying and vomiting onto the floor.

'Zoe? Braewyn said you'd stitch Arthur up.' It was Lancelot, sounding anxious, something that she had never thought the self assured knight capable of.

Zoe shook her head frantically, trying not to throw up again. She'd seen blood, she'd seen people's insides. Insides weren't supposed to be visible from the outside. It was gross, it was wrong, and she could still smell blood. She retched onto the floor.

'She said you'd take care of him.'

'I can't,' Zoe sobbed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. 'I can't do it.'

'Well then who will?' Lancelot yelled. 'There's nobody else!' He sounded desperate, and his face, when Zoe managed to look at it, was twisted with anger and contempt.

'I can't! I just can't.' Zoe sat back from the puddle of vomit on the ground, screaming up at the knight.

'Why the hell not?' Lancelot demanded, grabbing Zoe's arm and shaking her.

'I've never done anything like this before!'

'Well try! Arthur's in there bleeding and you're out here crying because you haven't done anything like this before? Go in there and do it, throw up after if you have to, I don't fucking care as long as Arthur gets better.' Lancelot tried to pull Zoe to her feet, but she resisted, trying to pull his hand off her arm, scratching at it.

'Then you fucking do it!' Zoe screamed, wrenching her arm away from his.

'I can't! If I could I would, then I wouldn't have to rely on pathetic women like you! But, in case you haven't noticed, my fingers are broken. Please, Zoe!' Lancelot begged, kneeling down in front of her and stroking her face. If Zoe had been less distressed she might have melted into the seductive move, but she barely noticed.

'I can't. I can't.' Zoe thought of digging a needle into someone's flesh, of blood on her hands. They were shaking. What if Arthur's ribs were showing? What if she hurt him? What if he died because she couldn't do it properly? What if he died because she didn't do it?

'You're too scared to. You're a fucking coward!' Lancelot screamed, pulling away from Zoe in disgust and standing up. 'Congratulations, because you're such a coward, Arthur's going to die! And let me tell you, if he dies because you were too weak to do anything, I'll kill you myself!' Lancelot left her in the hall, giving her a black glare. If looks could kill, Zoe would be dead ten times over. At least.

This wouldn't have happened if she had still been where she belonged. If she was at home, really at home, she wouldn't have to do these things. She wouldn't be threatened with death by a scarily loyal knight because she didn't want to poke his commander with a needle. She wouldn't smell like blood, be sitting next to her own vomit or have seen intestines. She'd had enough trouble with the rat dissection in biology, how could Braewyn expect her to be able to stitch Arthur up as if he was another piece of clothing? How could Lancelot expect her to do that?

'Zoe, you forgot this.' A jar with red thread was plopped down next to her. 'Now get off your ass, wipe your face and go help Arthur.' Lucia grabbed her shoulders and shook her. 'I can't do it, there's a man in there with his guts spilling out of his stomach. I need to put them back in soon, or else he'll die. Painfully, slowly. Compared to me, you've got it good, so stop being such a child and do what you promised to.'

'How do you do this?' Zoe asked.

'I learned from Marius, you know, before I was married,' Lucia said, not looking at Zoe. She sounded sad. 'I do this because it lets me sleep at night. It's better than doing nothing and knowing that men died for me; men who I could have saved with what I know and with what I can do. Don't kill him by doing nothing, Zoe. We need him. We need Arthur.'

Then she was gone, back into the infirmary to shove someone's insides back where they belonged. And Zoe was still in the corridor, next to a puddle of vomit and a jar of paste that was supposed to be good for wounds. And Arthur was in a room, lying on a bed, slowly bleeding out.

'Fuck!' Zoe screamed, letting out one last sob. 'Please God, if this is just a joke, take me home now!' Zoe yelled in English, pounding her fists on the ground.

But nothing changed. She wasn't zapped back to the house she'd been sharing with her friends before all this shit had happened; she didn't suddenly wake up in a hospital. Nothing changed.

And Zoe had no choice.

Zoe staggered to her feet, trying to take deep breaths. She scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her dress, trying to stop any more tears from coming out. She gritted her teeth and started to walk down the hall. She didn't know if she'd be able to do it, to heal Arthur and stop him from dying, but she did know she had to try.

xxx

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter was really hard for me to write. Thank you to all the reviewers, you guys kept me going on this when I just wanted to throw something at the screen. Thanks to my beta, homeric, for her hard work on this. As always, reviews are loved, and advice on characterization appreciated.

Disclaimer: Not mine-I don't own anything.


	17. A Long Night

**17. A Long Night**

There was a jar in the middle of a corridor, next to a puddle of vomit at Zoe's feet. Inside was a paste that Braewyn made out of herbs she and Zoe had grown together in their garden. It was supposed to help heal wounds and to stop them from getting infected. Normally it was used on scraped knees and cuts from accidents, like the one the carpenter had had in his workshop around midwinter that had cut his hand to the bone and left him unable to work for a month.

Today, she would have to use it on a far more serious injury; one that could possibly kill a man she had come to respect and admire. She growled and snatched the jar up, stalking down the corridor until she reached the knights' rooms.

Zoe leaned against the wall once she had reached the one she was looking for, taking deep breaths. She had to go in to the room just in front of her, the one with Cador's name and a stylized snake carved onto it, and stitch up a man. Arthur, to be precise. She had to open the door, go into the room and put a needle through Arthur's skin and pull thread through it and tug it together and pretend to know what she was doing so that Lancelot didn't panic.

She pressed her hands to her face and tried to think of useful things instead of her own insecurities about her ability to help the future king. _Like…like…like alcohol_! Zoe thought. She focused on the fact that alcohol killed germs rather than the appealing prospect of getting very drunk very quickly. Although she didn't think Lancelot would take too kindly to her pouring ale on Arthur's side. Ale wouldn't do. She had to ask for any pure spirits lying around. The strongest alcohol they had.

_I wish I had some antibiotics. Or penicillin. Or a fucking doctor!_ Zoe thought, rubbing her eyes. _I wish I wasn't here and I didn't have to deal with all this shit. I don't want to do this, please, tell me this isn't real and I'll just wake up and none of this was real._

But when she pulled her hands away from her face the corridor was still there, and the snake seemed to be sneering at her. _Yeah, well fuck you_, Zoe thought, glaring at the carved reptile. She seized the handle of the door and opened it.

She almost wished she hadn't. Lancelot was there, pacing back and forward in the room, which was like all the other knights rooms that she'd been into, but a far creepier ambiance.

Maybe that had something to do with the unconscious, pale, bleeding man on the bed at the opposite wall. Jols stood at his side, his hands pressing on a bandage covered in congealing blood, a slightly frantic look on his face.

'I can deal with scrapes, Lancelot, grazes. This…it's beyond me. I'll do my best if there's truly nobody else, but…' Jols let his voice trail off as he saw Zoe standing in the doorway.

'Are you going to help or just stand there?' Lancelot snarled, grabbing her arm and shoving her onto the floor next to the bed Arthur was lying on. His feet were at the head of the bed so that his wound was easy to access.

'I'm here to help, but I need a few things,' Zoe said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She tried not to look as confident as she felt-no point in worrying Lancelot more than he was already.

'Water, rags, bandages, thread, needles on the chest near Arthur's head. Candle positioned so that wound is lit. What else do you want?' Lancelot asked.

'Alcohol. The strongest stuff you can find. And somebody boil the water.'

'No bloody way are you drinking and then sewing Arthur up,' Lancelot protested. Jols nodded, backing Lancelot up. 'And why do you want the water boiled?'

'The water needs to be clean. And the alcohol's not for me-it's to pour on his wound, to stop it from festering.'

'Alcohol does that?' Lancelot asked sceptically.

'Trust me on this,' Zoe said, as confidently as she could.

Lancelot frowned, but flicked his hand and Jols got up and left the room immediately.

Zoe waited in silence while Jols was getting what she had asked for, one hand pressed tightly to the bandage on Arthur's side and slowly being covered in warm blood. She tried to ignore Lancelot glaring at her, but he was such an intense person that it proved difficult.

Finally, Jols arrived back and set a bucket of steaming water down within easy reach of Zoe and a stoppered bottle.

'Water's been boiled,' Jols said as Zoe dipped a rag in the water and wiped her hands clean with it. 'And Cook says the alcohol's the strongest stuff they've got - fresh from the still in the cellar- and that I owe him for the bottle.'

'I also need your knife,' Zoe said to Lancelot, setting the wet and bloody rag to one side and examining her hands for dirt or blood. She knelt next to Arthur, trying to avoid looking at the wound. She wasn't that brave yet.

'Here,' Lancelot thrust it at her, blade first. Zoe flinched, but accepted it, taking it carefully from the knight. There was only so much she'd be able to do if she cut herself on an undoubtedly sharp knife.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her mouth, bracing herself for what she had to do now. She squared her shoulders, opened her eyes and looked at the wound in Arthur's side.

It was covered by a bandage, and that would have to be the first thing to go. Problem was, it was stuck there by dried blood. Zoe tried to pry it off, but stopped when a fresh, crimson flow told her she was tearing the wound open.

Zoe tried to not to throw up when she saw the new blood, and instead reached with a trembling hand for the rags and the water. She grabbed a rag and dipped it in the bucket of water, soaking it before pressing it above the bandage and squeezing. Bloody water trickled down Arthur's muscled side and onto the sheet below. _It's going to be a bitch getting the bloodstains out of that_, Zoe thought absently.

Some of the crusted blood washed away and Zoe was able to pry the bandage away from the wound. Zoe closed her eyes briefly, to steel herself for the job. But, inevitably, she had to open them again, because blood was trickling down over her hands, warm and bright and sickening.

There was something disturbing about seeing another person's bones, Zoe discovered. And it was equally disturbing to know that, for all the rumours of invincibility, years of training and aura of invulnerability Arthur had built up around himself, he was just as fragile as any of them.

'Is this clean?' Zoe asked, waving the knife. 'I mean, did you use it on anybody today?'

Lancelot made a sound of impatient frustration. 'Not today.'

'Good,' Zoe murmured, looking closely at the wound and ignoring the small voice in her head that said she shouldn't be playing with sharp objects, medical procedures or Arthur's life like she was. She had no choice but to do this.

She could see several pieces of thread still in Arthur's skin. Braewyn was right, she'd have to cut them out. The problem was the stitches were still intact, even if the skin they were supposed to be holding together wasn't. Zoe gulped and slid the knife carefully along the line of stitches.

Thankfully, the knife was every bit as sharp as Zoe had thought it was, and when she applied pressure to the thread, it parted easily and Zoe was able to pull it out without hacking away at Arthur's flesh clumsily. She pulled the now-severed thread through Arthur's skin, trying to ignore the fresh blood covering her hands and Lancelot glaring at the back of her head.

Zoe grabbed a larger rag and pressed it to Arthur's side to stem the blood-flow temporarily. She looked over her shoulder at Jols and Lancelot who were both watching her like hawks.

'Pour alcohol over the needle and the thread,' Zoe said, wiping blood away from the wound in an attempt to find somewhere to put the stitches.

Splashes and a new smell, sharp and potent, from behind her told her that she was being obeyed. Dirty fingers handed her a needle and thread still wet from its alcohol-sterilization. It wasn't a good, or reliable, method of sterilizing things, but it was the best she could do.

Her hands were shaking so badly it took her three tries to thread the needle, something she hadn't done since her second week in the laundry.

'What was that for?' Lancelot asked.

Zoe took a deep breath and pressed the needle against Arthur's skin, above his wound. 'That was to make the needle and thread clean,' Zoe explained. She dug the needle in, blood welled up around the entrance point and she fought off the urge to vomit once again. 'If they're clean, there's less chance the wound will fester and become rotten. That means less risk to Arthur. Alcohol hurts like a bitch on a wound, but it's all I have at the moment.'

'What about honey?' Jols asked. 'Surely that's better.'

'Braewyn put honey in her paste-thing,' Zoe said, not looking away from her hands where they were stitching Arthur's skin together. 'It's what makes it a paste instead of a collection of mashed up herbs. Both are better than just one, though.'

_Sewing flesh was different from sewing cloth_, Zoe thought as she fought not to gag. _For one thing, cloth doesn't twitch when you hit a nerve, it doesn't bleed, it doesn't groan out in pain, _Zoe thought. _Cloth can't die if you go wrong. A badly-sewn seam won't kill somebody you care about._ If Zoe made as mistake here, she could potentially kill Arthur. She had to stop several times to make sure that her hands weren't shaking too badly, and frequently checked that her stitches were strong and even.

She wasn't the only one checking her work. Lancelot was practically breathing over her shoulder the whole time she had a needle anywhere near Arthur's flesh. As she pulled it together with her stitches, the knight seemed calmer. And when the blood stopped flowing out of the wound and slowed to a dull trickle as she made the final stitches Lancelot let out a sigh of relief.

Zoe wiped her sweaty forehead on her sleeve and sat back. 'Jols, could you pour alcohol on a rag for me?' she asked, looking at the pockmarked man.

Jols nodded, and did as she said. Zoe took the sopping rag in her hands and ran it over the line of stitches in Arthur's side. Her hand was shaking harder than ever, but she barely felt it.

Arthur flinched away from what must have put his side in more pain and groaned, despite being unconscious. Lancelot grabbed Zoe's wrist. 'What the hell did you do to him?'

'It's the alcohol. It burns when it goes on, but it will help,' Zoe reassured the knight, trying to tug her arm free of him. 'Pass me the paste and the water, please. And a rag, and the bandages. I need to finish.' Zoe's voice was unnaturally calm.

Jols shoved the things at her, looking at her warily and Lancelot let got of her arm, although he didn't move away. Dipping a rag in the water, she quickly rinsed away the blood. Her hands were still trembling, she noticed. Then, she washed her hands in the water, dried them on another rag and then picked up the jar of paste.

Zoe opened it and looked inside at the greenish-brown goo inside. She sniffed, sneezed at the strong smell and scooped a glob out with her fingers. It felt…odd. Sticky and grainy and cold. But it smelled better than the blood, and Zoe remembered Braewyn telling her to smear it over the stitches when she was done. So she did.

'Could you sit him up, please?' Zoe asked when Arthur's wound was completely covered in the paste. 'I need to bandage him.' She waved a clean strip of cloth for emphasis.

Lancelot and Jols carefully manoeuvred Arthur so that he was leaning on Lancelot, but there was enough space for Zoe to wind the bandage around Arthur's torso.

'He'll need to stay still until the skin's healed enough. Once it has, make sure he gets the stitches cut out. It's probably bad if they stay in.' Zoe said, using her shaking hands to wind the bandages around Arthur's torso. He had impressive muscles, Zoe noted. And he's probably growing a rug on his chest, she thought.

'Are you done?' Lancelot demanded, sighing in relief when Zoe nodded and moving slowly so that Arthur was lying down again. He was still pale, but when Zoe tried to find a pulse, it was steady and strong.

'When he wakes up, he needs a drink of something non-alcoholic,' Zoe said. 'He's lost a lot of the fluid in his body and needs to drink to get it back.'

Zoe stood up for the first time in what felt like hours, stretching her back and wincing at the cracks she heard as her spine readjusted itself. 'If that's all…'

Barely waiting for Lancelot's nod, Zoe dashed outside and through the familiar corridors to the Round Table room. It was dark, none of the torches were lit and neither was the fire in the centre of the table - all seemed quiet and calm. Zoe pressed herself into a corner, staring at the legendary table and let her knees buckle so she was sitting on the floor, trying to draw strength from the solidity of the stone.

She wasn't crying. She wasn't throwing up. She just sat down, staring at her hands. She was cold, and she was shaking. Shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

And the blood. It was all over her hands. She'd washed them, but they smelled like blood. Like Arthur's blood. And there was blood on her dress, in her hair on her face.

'Zoe?' She recognized the voice immediately as belonging to Lamorak. He hadn't seen her, but he was looking around the room and it was only a matter of time before he saw her. He sounded tired.

'Here,' Zoe said. She almost didn't recognize her voice, it sounded weak and childish and it trembled.

'Lucia sent me to say that if you're finished with Arthur, you should go help her.'

'No.'

Lamorak finally found where Zoe was sitting and slid down beside her. A strong arm pulled her away from the wall and against his shoulder.

'Your first time?' he asked, sounding sympathetic.

Zoe nodded, still shaking. Lamorak's hands were warmer than she was, and it felt good to be comforted like this. Even if Lamorak was all bony and pointy.

'It's hard, isn't it?' Lamorak asked. The tone of his voice said Zoe didn't have to reply, so she didn't, and tried instead to soak up as much of Lamorak's warmth as she could. 'When there's lives to be saved or lost by what you do and the blood starts getting to you.'

Zoe closed her eyes and felt tears start to build up in her eyes. Her shaking got worse and she tried to press closer to Lamorak's skinny body.

'But there are kids there that are younger than you and they're in pain and they need Braewyn and Lucia and you. Are you going to help them?' Lamorak asked.

Zoe cried. Great, gulping sobs and violent tremors that ran through her body. But this time it wasn't terror. It really wasn't. Zoe wasn't scared anymore. She was too tired, she'd worn out all her emotional energy and she had nothing left anymore.

'You're getting snot on my shirt,' Lamorak said uncomfortably, shifting until he could look Zoe in the eyes. 'You coming?'

Zoe sniffed, wiped her eyes and nose and nodded tiredly. She let Lamorak pull her to her feet and lead her to the infirmary. Through the windows that they passed, Zoe could see it was dark now. The stars were bright in the sky, almost mocking the misery and gore down below them.

Lamorak squeezed Zoe's hand when they reached the infirmary and pulled the door open. It was quieter there than it had been earlier. The only screams came from a man whose hand Braewyn was amputating with Lucia's help. The other patients were only groaning quietly in their pain.

'Zoe's here,' Lamorak announced, pulling Zoe gently towards the two women.

'Zoe, did you do exactly as I said?' Braewyn asked, not looking up as the mangled hand came off and the man screamed one last time as Braewyn pressed a hot iron to the wound.

'Yes,' Zoe replied dully. She didn't feel sick, she didn't feel like she wanted to run away or cry. She hadn't even flinched. She felt hollow and heavy inside.

'I need you to help the ones who aren't hurt too badly. Wash, stitch, paste, bandage. Got that?' Braewyn asked, casually handing Lamorak the severed hand.

So Zoe did. She asked Lamorak to fetch boiled water and, when he brought it back, she washed her hands, and then the men's wounds. She got Lamorak to pour alcohol over needles and thread and used it to pull their skin together to stop the bleeding. She smeared paste over the stitches and wrapped it all up in bandages and sent them away.

She did it again and again and there was so much blood. Those men had bled so much and Zoe was covered in it. Her dress, the pale blue one that Braewyn had made for winter, was now streaked with red and rust. Only Zoe's hands were completely clean, and they were red and raw from the number of times she'd washed them in near-boiling water.

And some of the men she treated could barely be called men. They didn't look old enough to shave regularly, but their hands, their arms, their legs, their sides, their young faces were wounded. Torn up like so much meat. And their eyes were as empty as Zoe felt.

Then, there were no more men, and Zoe was left with the smell of blood, the redness of it, the sticky feel of it on her fingers. There was so much of it she could almost taste it.

'Zoe, wash up. Now.'

Zoe looked up tiredly to see Lucia standing there, equally blood-soaked and tired, but seemingly much less troubled and scared.

Zoe blinked and looked at her hands. The blood of the last Roman she had treated was still wet on them. Still crimson and not the flaky brown of dried blood, like the stuff on her forearms and face. She moved slowly, sluggishly, and dipped her hands in a bowl of water, rubbing away the traces of red.

'Your face too.' Lucia handed a damp rag to Zoe. 'And sit still while I fix your hair.'

Zoe wiped her face while Lucia gathered her black hair and finger-combed it. Lucia was talking, telling Zoe how well she had done while she dried her hair with another rag and plaited it. It was long enough for a plait now, Zoe noticed. She could toss her hair over her shoulder after Lucia was done with it and admire the intricate braid.

'Zoe, I'm going home. There's a Roman soldier whose mistress lives next door to me, he's going to escort me home. He'll walk you home if I ask him to,' Lucia said, putting one hand on Zoe's shoulder to get her attention.

Zoe shook her head, pulling her eyes away from her hair. 'I'll stay with Braewyn,' Zoe said.

Lucia nodded, accepting it as the truth. But really, Zoe didn't think she could manage the walk all the way back to Braewyn's house. And there she'd be alone. She'd have nightmares. She wanted somewhere where she felt safe and Braewyn's cottage, near the woods where the woads were hiding, wouldn't feel safe after tonight. Maybe it wouldn't ever feel safe again.

'Goodnight,' Lucia said. Zoe heard her steady footsteps as she left the infirmary and decided she'd better leave too. There was too much blood here for her to sleep peacefully, and sleep was all she wanted at the moment. Well, sleep and a toilet.

Lucia was gone by the time Zoe had gathered enough energy to move. She walked down the corridors until she reached what passed for toilets here. One good thing about the Romans was indoor plumbing. Now that she was no longer frightened or busy, she really needed to pee. The toilets were empty, which Zoe was grateful for, and there was water there that Zoe used to clean her hands when she was done. But they still smelled like blood.

She moved almost automatically, through the bloodstained hallways and down to the laundry. It was just as she had left it, the clean, mended clothes in neat piles, the unmended clothes in a pile on the floor and the dirty ones tossed in the corner. The room smelled like old socks, or maybe like the boys' changing room Zoe had accidentally walked into once while she was still at school. But she herself smelled like blood.

And then she couldn't stand it anymore. She tore the bloodstained dress she had been wearing off and threw it away from her violently, shaking with fatigue. Zoe stood and shivered in the laundry, staring at the ruined cloth.

When a particularly violent chill worked its way through the laundry, the cold forced her to move. She walked over to the piles of clean and mended clothes. She had none of her own here, and the knights would be sleeping rather than worrying if their tunics and trousers had been washed.

Zoe grabbed a pair of trousers belonging to Caradoc, the shortest of the knights, and pulled them on, wriggling until she fit in them. They were tight around her hips and bum, because Caradoc was quite thin and Zoe was a bit chubby and they were far too long, because Caradoc was easily more than a head taller than her. Nevertheless, they were the ones most likely to fit.

She looked for a clean shirt, but apparently the girls had focused on trousers, socks and pants that wash day. The only one she could find was one of Tristan's that came down to her knees and the sleeves of which completely hid her hands. On top of that, when the ties of the shirt were undone Zoe's mamillare, what passed for a bra in these times, was showing and she had the vague, but uneasy suspicion that it would fall off her shoulders if she tried to sleep in it.

Zoe looked down at herself and shrugged, moving to the pile of clean laundry and kicking it until it more or less resembled the pile of furs she slept on at home. She dropped down on top of it and tried to go to sleep.

She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying not to remember all the torn flesh she'd seen today, all the bones, all the tendons and ligaments. She tried not to remember how it felt to pull thread through skin and muscle. She tried not to remember the corpses she'd seen, or what men sounded like when their limbs were amputated.

Zoe managed to drift into a restless sleep, dreaming of blood and death and corpses waking up to talk to her and ask why she hadn't saved them. She saw Arthur die and Lancelot come to kill her, and she saw Gawain pull his chest apart along the line of the wound she'd seen.

'I thought I was special,' Gawain accused Zoe when she gagged and tried to pull away. 'I thought you wanted me.'

Gawain's hand, covered in blood, reached out to her and grabbed onto her shoulder, shaking her hard. Zoe woke up screaming.

'Shhh, it's alright. Calm down, shhh.' It was Lamorak's hand on her shoulder, not Gawain's. Gawain was up in the infirmary, hopefully unconscious.

'Oh holy shit,' Zoe panted, reaching up and grabbing onto Lamorak's shirt.

'Awake now?' he asked.

'Yes,' Zoe said, breathing deeply through her mouth. Zoe looked up at Lamorak, who was avoiding looking at her. Zoe frowned and looked down at herself. Sure enough, the shirt she'd been wearing had slipped off her shoulder. Impatiently, she tugged it up again.

'What did you want?' Zoe asked.

'Erm…' Lamorak pulled away from Zoe and stood up, looking studiously at the ceiling of the laundry.

'You can look at me, you know.'

'But you're not dressed!' Lamorak protested, flushing.

'Since when do you have a problem with looking at undressed women?' Zoe asked, sitting up and stretching. 'Anyway, I'm completely decent.'

'Er…right. Um…'

'Are you alright? It's just…you look terrible.'

Lamorak really did look awful. The bags underneath his eyes made him look like a racoon and his shoulders sagged.

'Braewyn needs you,' Lamorak said, ignoring the question.

'Why?' Zoe yawned. She stood up, ignoring how he hastily averted his eyes as she did so.

'She needs someone to watch Gawain tonight. She's old and exhausted, the knights are all tired and wounded, Vanora's got a new baby and Marius is over in the Roman barracks and too busy to help. Lucia's gone home already. You're the only one left, Zoe.'

'Me?'

Lamorak nodded and Zoe sighed. She bent over to roll the ankles of Caradoc's trousers up so she wouldn't trip over them and then rolled the sleeves of Tristan's shirt up so they wouldn't get in her way.

'Why are you wearing trousers?' Lamorak asked when Zoe started to walk out of the laundry. They both ignored the pile of clean clothes that Zoe had slept on, and Zoe left her bloodstained dress where she had thrown it.

'Better than wearing that,' Zoe said, gesturing to the bloody dress.

'Whose clothes are you wearing?'

'I think the trousers are Caradoc's,' Zoe said, yawning and wiping sleep out of her eyes. 'Shirt belongs to Tristan. How bad is Gawain?'

'The worst that's still alive,' Lamorak said. 'He got hurt badly, Zoe. There's a chance he's not going to live through the night.'

Zoe nodded solemnly and walked in silence after Lamorak. He didn't lead her to the infirmary, though. He led her to the knights' quarters and Gawain's room.

The blond knight was lying on his bed as if he was sleeping and not unconscious and fighting for his life. But he was too pale to be sleeping, and Zoe knew that Gawain always slept sprawled across the bed rather than neatly arranged like he was now.

Braewyn was sitting on the bed, leaning her head in her hands. She, too, was blood-spattered, but most of it had been caught on an apron that she'd been wearing. She looked older than Zoe had ever seen her, as if all the life had been sucked out of her.

'Zoe, you're completely indecent,' Braewyn scolded tiredly.

'What did you need me to do?' Zoe asked, ignoring the comment. Braewyn looked too tired to argue about what Zoe was wearing at the moment, and Zoe was too worried about Gawain to want to.

'If Gawain wakes up, give him some water, the pitcher's on the table,' Braewyn said. She gestured at a pewter pitcher and cup sitting on the table that was normally crowded with weapons, whetstones, oil and cleaning rags. 'Then put some of this in his water-just a pinch and no more or else you'll poison him.'

Zoe took the small bag from Braewyn and opened it, peering at the crushed leaves inside. 'What's in it?'

'Hemlock. That's why I said only a pinch. It'll send him to sleep, but it won't kill him. If his wound tears open again, you'll need to stitch it up. Needle, thread, rags, water and bandages are sitting on the chest there,' Braewyn said, pointing at the foot of Gawain's bed.

'Has the water been boiled?' Zoe asked.

'Yes, it has. I know how you are about that, Zoe,' Braewyn smiled tiredly. 'Then put more paste on it, and re-bandage it. If Gawain develops a fever, you need to get some of this down his throat-it's feverfew and willow bark and it needs to be in water. Change the bandages, too, if that happens, remember to put more of this on it,' Braewyn said, reaching for a pot of her herbal paste. 'If he's feverish you need to keep him as cool as possible.'

'Right-so if he wakes up, get him to drink and knock him out with hemlock. If he rips himself open again stitch him back up. If he gets a fever cool him down, pour feverfew and willow bark tea down his throat and change his bandages. Anything else, Braewyn?' Zoe asked, rubbing her forehead.

'If he dies-no, listen to me,' the old woman cut over Zoe's vehement objection. 'If he dies, go to Lancelot's room, not Arthur's. Arthur needs as much sleep as he can get at the moment.'

'I won't have to do that,' Zoe said.

'I hope you won't,' Braewyn said. 'If you need me, Dinadan has let me sleep in Palomides' room. The one with the leaping fish on the door. Oh, and these candles are for you to tell the time with. The marks represent an hour each, but someone should be here when the sun comes up in four or so hours. Flint and steel are on the table, there's a blanket for you on the floor near the chest. Goodnight, Zoe.'

Braewyn kissed Zoe's forehead and hobbled out, followed by Lamorak. Zoe retrieved the blanket-it was an old woollen one Zoe had washed several times in the laundry. She thought it belonged to Galahad, but she wasn't really sure at the moment.

Zoe tossed the blanket around her shoulders and sat on the cold stone floor, watching Gawain's far-too-still face, preparing for a long night.

xxx

A/N: Ok-here's the next chapter, and it's another dark one. I had a lot of time to work on this one-I was stuck at home during three 40+ degree days. I don't know what that converts into in Fahrenheit, but in Celsius it's a lot. I think it was 43, 44, 42 and then 39 the next day seemed comparatively cool. Today it's a lovely, humid 30 and I'm feeling chilly.

Anyway, enough rambling about the temperature here in Australia. Thank you to homeric, my lovely beta. I sent her the chapter last night and it was there when I woke up this morning. She's brilliant.

And thanks to everyone who keeps reading and particularly to my reviewers. I love you guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own this and I don't pretend to.


	18. Watching You

**18. Watching You**

It was probably a good thing the floor was so uncomfortable. Because of this, Zoe couldn't go to sleep where she was sitting. She shifted and wriggled every so often, but, even so, her bum was going numb and her lower back was aching.

She didn't know how long she sat there, looking from Gawain's too-still face to the candle. Once in a while she'd reach out and touch his neck, just to make sure he still had a pulse, and hadn't slipped away since she'd last checked.

Zoe stood up and stretched, groaning as her back cracked like an old woman's. She winced when the blood rushed painfully quickly back to her feet and sat down on Gawain's bed. Carefully taking the knight's hand, she tried not to press down on the bandages around his knuckles, and found the weak pulse in his wrist.

It was comforting. And as the night went on and the darkness seemed to get heavier and more menacing, despite the light of the candle, Zoe needed whatever comfort she could get. The warmth of the blanket around her shoulders, the light of the small flame and Gawain's pulse all helped, but she was still afraid.

In every shadow she saw death lurking. She'd seen dying men today, she'd seen men die and she'd seen their corpses afterwards. And Gawain, with his pale face and disturbing stillness looked as if he was going to join them. He had lost a lot of blood, and if the woad had cut any of his internal organs he was in big trouble. There weren't any surgeries, no sterilization, no blood transfusions, nothing. Medicine was primitive here, and Gawain was likely to die, no matter what Braewyn said.

Zoe glanced at the candle -only one marker on it had been burned through. It felt like longer. Smothering a yawn she slid off the bed, resuming her position on the floor. She kept her grip on her patient's hand though, needing to have his comforting pulse under her fingers. Zoe flicked her braid over one shoulder and rested her head on the bed next to Gawain's hip.

The shadows seemed closer now, the candle flame smaller. Zoe stared at it, willing it to bring more light to the room instead of flickering, dancing shadows.

Gawain took a strangely deep breath, face wrinkling up, and Zoe leaned forwards eagerly, hoping he would wake up and smile at her. But he didn't. He stayed like he had been before, pale and limp. Dead to the world. Ominous choice of words, Zoe thought, chuckling darkly. She was tired, it had been a long day for her, too, and the only rest she'd had had been interrupted by nightmares and hadn't refreshed her at all.

And Gawain might die if she slept. But she wanted to. She was rather comfortable here, it would be so easy to just close her eyes and drift off next to Gawain, sleeping together until morning.

But if she did that, there was a possibility that Gawain might die because of her. She might have to do as Braewyn said and go knock on Lancelot's door and bring him the news that a knight was dead. And Lancelot would hate her more than he already did. Right now, he just hated her for being a coward, rather than being the one to kill a comrade and friend of his through inattention.

Zoe stared at the candle, waiting for the time to run out. By the candle, only an hour and a bit had passed. Not even an hour and a half.

The flame of the candle danced in Zoe's vision. It seemed to grow brighter and larger the longer she stared at it. Gawain's steady heartbeat throbbed where Zoe's fingers rested against his wrist. Zoe twisted so she was a little more comfortable where she sat.

The candle flame fluttered. It grew fuzzy as Zoe's eyelids got heavier and heavier. She couldn't sleep, though. She couldn't sleep. But she was so tired, and just comfortable enough. She didn't even notice when she drifted off into a light doze, still holding onto Gawain's hand.

And she dreamed. There was a Roman boy, one who she remembered vividly as the young soldier begging his older friend not to die, and he walked up to her and stared at her.

'You wouldn't help him.'

The veteran soldier, the young Roman's friend, was standing there, one hand trying to hold his stomach together, the other outstretched towards the Roman boy.

'She's not good enough to save anyone,' the veteran said. Zoe didn't even know his name. 'Don't blame her. She's just not good enough.'

Then he changed, and it was Arthur standing there, one hand on his wound, blood dribbling down his side. 'Why did you take so long? Wasn't I important enough? Future King of England, a man you respect and admire and I wasn't important enough for you to help? You're a coward.'

And then Lamorak and Lancelot were there, too, and Arthur was no longer bloody, but crowned and dressed in his red cloak, armour shining. He looked like the figure from legend and his stern face made Zoe afraid.

'You knowingly endangered the life of the King. You weren't brave enough to touch his blood, to save his life, and no-one will be brave enough to save yours.' The vision suddenly reached up, pulling his face off to reveal a skull with burning green flames for eyes. One skeletal hand rested on Lancelot's arm for a moment before gesturing to Zoe.

Lancelot, dressed all in black armour, stood in front of her, a flaming sword in his hand. 'You will die.'

Zoe screamed, too afraid to run away, holding her arms over her head as if that would stop the blade from cutting into her. But it never did. Instead, Gawain was the one cut by the sword, blood pouring out of him and pooling at his feet.

He turned slowly, his blond hair wet with blood and his hands holding his chest and stomach together. He smiled at her, his teeth bloody and breath rattling and gurgling inside him.

'Why are you crying?' he asked, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. Zoe grabbed the bloody hand before it could touch her, trying not to scream as Gawain's chest sagged open. She could see his ribs through the cut.

'I'm here, isn't that what you want? I'm here, right next to you. Can't you feel my hand?' Gawain squeezed it gently, smiling. A line of blood dribbled down his chin and more pumped out where his other hand was holding his guts inside him.

Then Lancelot was there again, and he plunged a knife into her calf and Zoe screamed in pain and terror, forced into wakefulness by the shock.

She stood up in Gawain's room, looking around at the man lying still and bandaged on the bed, breathing evenly. Zoe looked down at her calf where, in her dream, Lancelot had stabbed her. The skin was pale and smooth, unbroken but the muscles underneath it were cramping painfully. Zoe sighed and worked the cramp out as best she could.

Zoe looked at Gawain, whose hand was dangling over the edge of the bed where she had dragged it. She picked it up, feeling his pulse, and put it back next to him on the bed. She reached out a hand and felt his forehead.

It was hotter than it had been before, and sweaty. It didn't seem like a fever, but maybe she should cool him down. She dipped a rag in the water that was resting on the table and dabbed at Gawain's face and neck.

She was wiping it over his forehead when she noticed that his eyes were moving beneath their lids. He was dreaming. _Was that a good sign? _Zoe wondered, squeezing the cloth so that the water dribbled down his temples.

Gawain was handsome, even like this, Zoe noticed. What she had been most attracted to in Gawain, his energy and lightness, was gone, true, but he was still handsome. Zoe traced a finger gently down his nose, across his lips and then down his neck, from ear to collarbone.

Her fingertip, when she took it off Gawain's skin, came away shiny with his sweat and the water she'd wiped him with. Zoe wiped it off on the sheet Gawain was lying on.

She wanted to touch him again. She really wanted to touch him again and she didn't stop herself from touching his hair. It was grimy, unwashed since the battle, so there was blood and sweat all through it. But the few clean strands she found were fine and soft and shining gold in the light of the candle. So did his skin, pale though it was at the moment.

Gawain looked like some sort of sort of sleeping prince. Prince Charming, Zoe thought as she stroked his hair. _Would he wake up if I kissed him?_ It had been two and a half hours since Braewyn had left her, according to the candle and Gawain hadn't woken up. He'd barely moved, and when Zoe pressed her fingers to the pulse in his neck it felt weaker and slower.

_Please let him wake up_, Zoe thought. _If the Princess kisses Prince Charming, does it work the same way?_

Zoe leant down to his face, holding her braid away from Gawain with one hand. She could smell his breath (it was rather disgusting, actually, but then she hadn't brushed her teeth for months) and feel how warm he was. She pressed her lips gently against his. They were chapped, not soft, and they didn't move, didn't respond and so Zoe pulled away, trying to ignore the tears stinging in her eyes.

_Of course it didn't work_, the rational part of Zoe's brain told her. But there was still a large part of her that was disappointed that he hadn't woken. The room was close to silent. Outisde there was no noise, and inside the room the sound of Gawain's steady breaths and Zoe's unsteady ones seemed wrong, as if by breathing they were shattering the calm silence after the battle today. As if they weren't supposed to be breathing at all.

'You can't die. You can't!' Zoe whispered fiercely, sitting down next to Gawain again and gripping his hand in hers. 'You're Sir Gawain, you fought the Green Knight and lived. You're…you're one of the Knights of the Round Table, you can't die now. You can't die!'

Zoe could feel the tears falling down her cheek and she fought to stop herself from choking.

'Y-you wanted to prove how brave you were, to prove how strong you were, how good a knight you were when a strange knight in green challenged the Round Table. You were the youngest, and the king's nephew, Arthur's nephew and you wanted to prove yourself. The Green Knight offered and exchange of blows-one now, to be returned in a year. You took up the challenge, struck off his head in one blow and he picked it up as if it was nothing. He told you to meet him at his castle in a year, so you searched for it. You found a castle, and a lord and a beautiful lady who was his wife and she gave you kisses and a girdle that would protect you from all harm, but you broke your bargain with the lord and didn't give him the girdle in exchange for the deer he caught.'

Zoe pressed Gawain's hand to her face. 'You didn't die, because the Green Knight held back. And you can't die now. You can't die now. Don't die on me. Please don't die on me!'

Gawain didn't move.

'You live. You've got to live and do that. You married the loathly lady in exchange for her help for Arthur. You let her choose what she wanted and she became beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world. You have to live for her to give you your son. You've got to live, because you stood with Arthur to the last.'

Zoe couldn't hold back her sobs, but the words kept spilling out.

'You'd never betray Arthur, would you? It's just like the legends, isn't it? But then, it's not the same. You're not knights in shining armour. There's no Green Knight and no Camelot. You're here, nearly dead, and Galahad's not Lancelot's son and he's sure as hell not as pure as the legends say he is. If he tried to pick up the Grail now, he'd burn like Lancelot did. And there's no Guinevere to come between Arthur and Lancelot. But Arthur, I can see why Arthur's a legend. He's something else, and I can see why you follow him. I can see why he's so famous. But I wish that following him didn't mean this for you. I don't know if I can stand this…seeing you like this.'

Zoe couldn't stop crying, and she rested her head next to Gawain, trying to muffle the sound in the bed. Zoe looked up at Gawain's face, half expecting him to be awake and listening to her. But he wasn't. He hadn't moved. Zoe reached out to his neck, to look for his pulse. It was still there, still beating.

'You're not going to die. You're not going to die because I love you,' Zoe cried. She had a headache, her nose had run and the sheets that she'd been crying on were wet.

'I love you,' Zoe said again, and stopped crying in shock. She'd said what to Gawain? She loved him? _Hell no, too much too soon_, Zoe thought. She barely told her friends she loved them, and she'd known them for years and years. She'd known Gawin less than six months. And yeah, she was infatuated with him-he was strong and handsome and kind to her in a strange world where men were more likely to grab at her and hurt her. But love? No. It couldn't be.

She shook her head firmly and stood up. She took a few deep breaths and splashed a bit of water on her own face, before checking on Gawain again. Still not moving, but he was still breathing and his heart was still beating.

She sat down again, but the silence in the room seemed to crush her. Her own breathing was more laboured than before, loud and harsh and too loud for the night.

Zoe tried to go back to sitting and watching Gawain, but the silence was…heavy. There were expectations in the air now, and secrets. Gawain couldn't know what he and his comrades would become. And Zoe didn't want Gawain to know how she felt.

She needed some noise. Any noise. She started humming softly, tunelessly. She remembered how, when Suze and Brit would go off to football, her father had sent her to choir. She didn't have the greatest voice, she always struggled on high notes and was crap at reading music, but she'd enjoyed singing in a choir. She was anonymous, she got to stay indoors, and it didn't hurt like the pilates course her mother had encouraged her to try. Eventually, after four years of singing twice a week, Zoe had learned how to carry a tune.

She looked at Gawain again, saw that he was still sleeping, and still a little warm, and so she dabbed at him with a damp cloth again. Her humming gained a tune, and, as she put the rag away and perched at the foot of Gawain's bed, she started singing Lavender Blue.

It made Zoe feel better, and Gawain couldn't object, so when that song was done, she moved onto others. Mockingbird, a Scottish one she'd heard Suze singing to her cousins a couple of summers ago when she'd helped babysit them. Then she sung Greensleeves, the Last Rose of Summer and Scarborough Fair, holding Gawain's hand, feeling his pulse and watching his face for any sign of awakening.

She was singing Danny Boy, a song her German father had a strange reverence for, when she felt something tickling her neck. She shrugged her shoulders, but the irritant remained, so Zoe raised her hand to brush it off.

But it wasn't just a fly, or a stray hair or something like that. It was a hand.

Zoe stifled a shriek and whirled around, dropping Gawain's wrist and leaping off the bed.

'Tristan!' Zoe exclaimed, pressing her hands to her heart. She sat back down on the bed as her knees buckled in relief. She'd thought it was some sort of attacker, but no, it was Tristan.

Tristan was standing there, not even an arm's length away, watching her. He didn't say anything, even when Zoe turned around. That's a bit creepy, Zoe though, trying and failing to avoid his stare.

He was made even creepier by the fact that he looked like some blood-spattered villain in a horror movie. There was blood all over his boots; spots on his tunic and his hands were red with it. His face had spatters of it and there was congealed blood in his ratty, messy hair.

'You scared me,' Zoe said. It came out like an accusation.

'That was not my intention,' Tristan said. His voice was level and a bit scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken in a while, and it had a strange accent to it.

'Cough or something before you sneak up on me like that,' Zoe commanded, standing up so that she didn't feel quite as small in his presence. 'How did you get in without me noticing?'

Tristan just looked at her, and Zoe bit her lip, looking away from him. So much for not feeling small, Zoe thought. There was something about Tristan that just made her feel tiny. Maybe it was the way she barely seemed to matter to him, or the way he held himself apart from people in general.

There was an uneasy silence, with Zoe looking between Tristan and Gawain, Tristan staring at Zoe like some sort of prey and Gawain lying unconscious on the bed.

'You have Braewyn's paste,' Tristan said, eventually.

'Yes. You need some?' Zoe asked, relieved that Tristan seemed to have a purpose here other than staring at her.

Tristan nodded, and Zoe got up off Gawain's bed and reached for the jar Braewyn had left in the room. Gawain wasn't going to bust his stitches open by lying in a bed. She felt safe giving it to Tristan.

He reached out for it with his blood-spattered left hand.

'Wait,' Zoe said, pulling the jar away from him. 'You're hurt.'

Tristan gave her a look that said 'Isn't that obvious', but Zoe ignored him as best she could.

'Your right arm is hurt. How are you going to tend to that with just your left hand?' Zoe asked.

Tristan didn't reply, but his eyes flicked from Zoe to the jar Braewyn had left with her. He looked as if he was going to just take it if Zoe didn't say something first. And, as creepy as Tristan was, he still needed some help, and she was the only one awake to give it to him.

Zoe looked from Gawain to Tristan. Gawain could do without her constant surveillance; he was lying peacefully on the bed, and showing no signs of waking. Tristan did need the help. And if Gawain woke up, Zoe would be right there to help him.

'Take off your tunic and shirt,' Zoe ordered briskly.

Tristan raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched into a smirk. Zoe flushed, irritated and embarrassed.

'Shut up.'

Tristan's smirk grew wider and Zoe glared at him.

'Just take them off. I can't help you if you won't let me at the wound.'

'Who said I'd let you help?' Tristan asked in that irritatingly level voice.

'Don't be an idiot,' Zoe snapped, turning around to the table where Braweyn had left all the healing supplies she'd need. Tristan was still walking and calm and creepy so he couldn't be too badly off.

When Zoe turned back, Tristan was sitting on Gawain's table and his tunic and shirt were halfway off. He looked like he was having trouble pulling it over his wounded arm without moving it. Zoe hesitantly stepped in and, when Tristan gave her permission simply by not gesturing her away, she gently pulled the shirt away from the cut and down Tristan's arm.

He grimaced in discomfort when Zoe pulled his clothes; off the blood that had dried around his wound, but he quickly controlled himself and nodded his thanks to Zoe, completely ignoring the fresh blood dripping down his arm.

Zoe looked over his chest for blood, either dried or fresh-there was a small cut to his left side that had mostly stopped bleeding and what looked like an arrow graze along the right side of his neck. The graze had stopped bleeding, so all she'd need to do for them was to wash them, put the paste on and bandage them.

His right arm, though, had a deep cut to the shoulder. It was what had hampered his movements and, probably, driven him to find Zoe. The edges were clean, so Zoe could guess that it had been a blade that had done the damage. That would need stitches.

'The cuts on your side and your neck will only need washing and the paste. Then I'll bandage them. Your arm I'll need to stitch,' Zoe said, turning around to dip a rag in the water.

Tristan only tensed when Zoe ran the damp cloth over his wounds, and didn't even do that when she smeared the paste on them. She managed to bandage them up quickly and moved on to the one in his arm.

She washed it, and saw the arm tense underneath her hands, but when she looked up at Tristan's face it was calm and not twisted up in pain.

She washed her hands by wiping them on another damp cloth and reached for the needle and thread. Zoe managed to thread the needle on her first try, and reached over to press the edges of the cut together. Blood oozed around her fingers, and Tristan's muscles tensed, nearly trembling.

'You don't have to be so stoic,' Zoe said as she pushed the needle through his flesh for the first time.

Tristan just turned to look at her, head tilted at an angle that suggested curiosity.

'This has to hurt. I won't think anything less of you if you, you know, actually show that you're in pain,' Zoe continued. She quickly stitched up the wound, ignoring the blood and tying the thread off quickly and as gently as possible. She ran her finger gingerly over the line of neat stitches, to see if they were secure.

Tristan grabbed one of her bloody hands and pulled it to his chest and down his stomach. Zoe tried to pull away, not sure what he was doing, but he stopped at a wide, silvery scar that ran across his muscled abdomen. It ran from his left hip, to the bottom of his ribcage on the right in a jagged line.

'Do you think that what you just did would have hurt as much as this?' Tristan hissed, pressing Zoe's hand more firmly against the scar on his hard stomach. Zoe couldn't stop staring at the scar, but Tristan's other hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

His eyes were wild and more than a little scary, the shadows underneath them making him look sinister. Zoe tried to pull her hand away from his stomach, but he held it there tightly. The skin and scar tissue under her hand seemed hot, and the smell of blood was making Zoe queasy again.

'Y-you need to go to sleep. Rest. Sleep is the best healer, they say,' Zoe stammered.

Tristan released her as suddenly as he had grabbed her, and Zoe turned away to look for a damp cloth to clean her bloody hands on.

She concentrated on that, and then she checked Gawain, feeling his pulse and checking his temperature. She started to clean the things she'd used, and, since the room was so quiet and Tristan wasn't on the table anymore, she assumed he'd left. That was why when he spoke again it was such a surprise for Zoe.

'What were you singing?' He was standing in the doorway, tunic and shirt hanging from one hand, bare chested. Zoe could see a bloody handprint on his stomach, and a smear where he'd dragged her hand down his chest. It was Tristan's blood painting his torso, and he looked as relaxed and calm as if he hadn't just been stitched up. As if he wasn't covered with his own blood.

'I-I was singing…' Zoe suddenly realized that everything she'd been singing was in English, in her native language and not in any tongue recognizable to Tristan.

'I've been to the East, you know. Where Arthur thinks you came from. They are not Eastern songs,' Tristan said.

Zoe tried to say something that would explain it, but she could come up with nothing. Arthur had assumed Zoe was a member of a caravan of people from the Eastern Empire and had taken her in because of that. If he found out Zoe was not, in fact, a member of that group, he could have her thrown out of the village, or even killed.

'I don't know the tongue you were singing in. I could tell the priest you were chanting over Gawain's body and he would accuse you of witchcraft and try to burn you. I could tell the knights you were practicing black magic on their brother. I could tell Arthur you sing woadish songs and have you die a traitor's death.'

'What?' Zoe was surprised at the threat-Tristan didn't strike her as the type to verbally threaten someone. He was more of the stand there and loom type of menace and this seemed very out of character for him.

'You talk with men like equals, your accent is not Eastern, and the clothes you were wearing when Arthur found you were not from the East, and didn't look like any cloth I have seen. I don't know where you are from, but you act more like a wild woadish woman than a Christian sister of the Eastern Kingdom.'

'Tristan!' Zoe protested as loudly as she could, before flinching and looking over at Gawain, to see if her outburst had disturbed him. The blond knight was still and calm in his bed, so Zoe turned back to Tristan, who was still staring at her.

'How could you think I'd be one of the people that did…this,' Zoe gestured to Gawain, 'to him? To Arthur?'

Tristan shrugged. 'Tell me where you're from, then.'

'I…I…' Zoe couldn't tell him she came from hundreds of years in the future. It sounded insane and that would get her thrown out of the comparative comfort of the village as a crazy woman. But no longer was the assumption that she came with the caravan protecting her. Tristan was too suspicious, and knew too much for that to work. But she had no better lie!

'Spies are usually better liars,' Tristan commented.

'I'm not a spy! I'm not. I'm just trying to live here. If I was a spy, would I have sewed up Arthur? Watched Gawain like this? Would I have taken care of you?' Zoe hissed; angry and frustrated at her own helplessness. She had no proof that she wasn't a spy, and Tristan had Arthur's trust in a way she didn't. If he said she was a woad Arthur would listen to her as well as Tristan, but would believe the knight.

Tristan just looked at her for a while, as if judging her reactions. Zoe felt like screaming at him, but a glance over at Gawain reminded her of why it was a bad idea. She swallowed down the invectives she wanted to spit at Tristan, and settled for glaring at him instead.

'I'll be watching you,' Tristan said calmly. 'And if you are a woad, or any danger to the knights, I'll kill you myself.'

'Bastard,' Zoe snarled, clenching her hands into fists and trembling with anger.

Tristan nodded to her. 'Thank you for treating me.' He turned around and stepped out of the doorway. 'By the way-you can keep that shirt. It suits you.'

Then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

Zoe wanted to scream, to yell, and to punch something, to kick something. But she couldn't because Gawain was right there and he needed quite and rest and not a screaming, angry, hysterical girl.

Zoe took a deep breath and looked down at the shirt Tristan had said she could keep. It had fallen off one shoulder and was gaping open. She furiously tugged it so that it exposed less of her breasts.

Damn Tristan! Zoe thought, picking up the woollen blanket and sitting on Gawain's bed. She scooted to the far edge of the bed, on the side closest to the wall and leant against it, drawing her knees to her chest. Gawain still didn't move.

She glanced over at the candle. There was a little less than half a mark left, Zoe estimated.

Half an hour, Zoe thought wearily. Half an hour until this is over.

xxx

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long-I was fighting fires for a week and a bit up in the mountains. Yes, it was that bad. Also, my uncle's house burned down, so I've got my two little cousins and an aunt staying with my family while my uncle looks for a new place to live. So writing has not been my top priority for a while.

Anyway, here's the chapter and I hope it was worth the wait. As always, any advice on characterisation is appreciated. The reviews that I've been getting have always reminded me that there's better stuff out there than smoke and fire.

Finally, thank you to my wonderful beta, homeric. She's doing a kickass job.

Disclaimer: Knights aren't mine, but I wish they were.


	19. The Next Day

**19. The Next Day**

The candle had been burned down to nothing, and still nobody had come. Without the candle flame to focus on, Zoe was struggling to keep her eyes open. Gawain wasn't a real distraction either; he was just lying on the bed, still pale, still unconscious. He hadn't even woken up once.

Zoe yawned and rubbed her eyes, but she still felt herself nodding off. Zoe pinched her arm, trying to use the slight pain to stay awake. It worked, but she was probably going to bruise there-it was the fifth time she'd pinched that exact spot since the candle guttered.

She glared at Gawain, momentarily jealous that he got to sleep until he woke up. Then her tired mind remembered that he had been impaled by a sword, and, therefore, it made no sense for her to be jealous of him. He was probably in an enormous amount of pain.

Zoe slid down from where she had been sitting on the bed to the floor, leaning her head against the edge of the bed and looking up at Gawain's side. He was still breathing, but when Zoe tugged on his hand it slid limply off the bed. Still unconscious, then, Zoe thought.

Just as she was about to give up completely and go to sleep, the door burst open and the Marius, the Roman's surgeon came in. Lucia had told Zoe about him yesterday - how he had gone into medicine after his wife had died in childbirth and how he hated to be called a 'healer' due to his firm belief in observation and what Zoe would call science. He was also a rare example of an atheist, having given up his faith in any and all gods when the child his wife had died to give birth to sickened and died despite his prayers and best efforts.

Zoe felt pity for him, in an abstract way, but he was also bad-tempered, unbearably arrogant and he smelled like cattle. So when he banged the door open and loudly demanded that all unwashed, uneducated laundry maids were to leave the room immediately. Zoe glared at the unwelcome visitor.

'Be quiet or you'll wake him,' she hissed tiredly.

'Don't be daft, girl. You could stab him and the boy wouldn't wake up, see?' With that Marius prodded Gawain's side, just above where Zoe knew the wound to be. Gawain's breath hissed in, and his body shrank away from the surgeon's finger, but he didn't wake up. 'Now get out.'

Zoe, too tired to argue with him, agreed, with a stern admonishment to not do that again.

'What are you, his mother? I cure people, not make them worse, now get out!' Marius snarled, hurrying her out the door and slamming it behind her.

So now Zoe was more or less awake, although not thinking very clearly. She wanted to go back to Braewyn's house, her home here, and sleep for a day. But first, she had to find Braewyn. And she couldn't remember which room the old woman was sleeping in. And there were sleeping knights all around her. Damn.

If I were Braewyn early in the morning, where would I be? Zoe thought, leaning against the wall outside Gawain's room. The obvious answer was, of course, at her house, but Zoe doubted that Braewyn would be there. She'd been tired last night, and the woman needed her sleep in her old age. The next most obvious answer was, then, in bed, but Zoe had no idea where that was. The final choice was the infirmary.

Zoe pushed herself off the wall and meandered through the building until she reached it. She could hear somebody moaning pathetically on the other side of the door. Not good moaning, like the kind she sometimes heard through Lancelot's door when he had a woman in there with him, but the kind of 'I'm in so much pain I want this to stop' moaning that made her feel sick to her stomach.

She took a deep breath and opened the door to find Lucia pulling the bandages off of a Roman soldier's arm.

'Ah, Zoe, good, you can hold this,' Lucia said, glancing up from her work and handing Zoe some clean, damp cloths. 'When the bandage is off, wipe his arm. I'll put some more paste on, then you hold the new bandage in place while I wrap his arm again.'

Zoe knelt down next to Lucia, smiling tiredly at the Roman soldier. He looked so young, as if he wasn't able to shave yet. The boy smiled back tightly, pale and sweating and obviously in pain.

'Have you seen Braewyn?' Zoe asked, doing as she was told and wiping the wound with the damp cloths.

'No. She's probably still sleeping, because I haven't seen her here,' Lucia answered.

'When did you arrive?' Zoe asked, watching as Lucia smeared new paste over the wound. The scent of herbs mixed with the tang of blood in the air and Zoe tried to breathe through her mouth instead of her nose.

'I came here at dawn. I knew there'd be more work than Marius and Braewyn could handle. Where did you get your clothes?' Lucia asked, finally noticing Zoe's , and cocking one eyebrow in amusement.

'Laundry. Couldn't go home and my dress was disgusting,' Zoe replied.

'I'm sorry, I should have thought to get you and Braewyn something to wear,' Lucia said, gesturing to her friend to hold the bandage in place.

'It's no trouble, these are actually comfortable,' Zoe confessed, keeping her hand steady while Lucia wound the bandage around her patient's arm.

'You look as if you haven't slept.'

'I got a couple of hours.'

'Go home and sleep, Zoe. What were you doing all night?'

'Braewyn asked me to watch Gawain. He's the most seriously injured of the knights, and I was supposed to make sure he didn't get a fever or tear his stitches until Marius came this morning. I guess there was nobody else to do it.'

'There, that's done,' Lucia said, tying off the bandage and pulling Zoe's fingers out from underneath. It still held tight enough, and the Roman boy thanked them.

'Shoo, get out of here. Go sleep, Zoe.'

'I think I want a proper bath first,' Zoe replied. 'I still smell like blood.'

Lucia looked at her, eyes dark and bleak, and nodded. 'I understand. But make sure you sleep, even if there are nightmares waiting for you.'

Zoe said goodbye to her friend and started the walk out of the fort.

'Zoe! Where are you going? And what are you wearing?' a voice called out from behind her.

It was Kay, looking entirely too cheerful for this time of the morning. His hair was wet, and there were damp patches on his shirt, as if he'd pulled it on over wet skin without bothering to dry off.

'I was heading to the baths,' Zoe said, frowning.

'I was just there, it makes me feel so much better the morning after a battle. Nice to have a bit of a soak to relax, yes? But you don't look like you've slept. Or eaten. Have you eaten yet?' Kay asked in concern.

'No,' Zoe stammered, a bit overwhelmed by the energetic knight.

'Well then you must come and eat. I know Arthur will want to thank you for what you did.'

'How do you know?'

'Arthur was awake when I left, and Lamorak told me he told Arthur while we were at the baths. Now come on, I'm starving.'

Zoe let herself be dragged along by Kay into the room with the Round Table. It was lit with a few torches, and there were a few knights sitting around. Caradoc, Dinadan, Percival, Dagonet, Lancelot and Arthur were all at the table, in various states of alertness. Kay let out a loud 'Hello this fine morning!' and the knights all groaned to see him. It looked like Zoe wasn't the only one who thought the knight was annoyingly awake.

'Kay, do me a favour and shove your sword up your arse,' Dinadan snarled.

Zoe remembered that Dinadan was not a morning person. She'd given up delivering any of his clothes until late in the morning, if not in the afternoon. The first few times she'd tried, she'd had various things thrown at her.

'Don't talk like that in front of ladies,' Kay said, nearly skipping over to a seat three spaces away from any other occupied ones.

'Ladies?' Lancelot asked, eyes sparkling briefly before finding Zoe. Then they turned flat and angry, and Lancelot looked away. 'It's just Zoe.'

'What on earth are you wearing?' Percival asked her, eyes wide.

'Erm…'

'You might want to…' Percival tugged his own shirt up a few inches, staring steadfastly at a point over Zoe's head.

'Did you have to do that?' Kay asked plaintively. 'I was enjoying the view.'

Zoe glared at him and tugged her shirt until it covered her a little more.

'Kay.'

'Sorry Arthur.'

'Don't mind him, Zoe, come, sit down and have some breakfast,' Arthur offered, gesturing towards Jols, who appeared out of nowhere with a seat that he put next to Arthur, on the other side of Lancelot.

'But there was already a chair there,' Zoe said, sitting on the chair Jols had brought over.

Arthur reached over her and tapped a carving on the table as Jols went to grab another cup and a pottery plate.

'It says Agravaine,' Arthur explained, not knowing Zoe could read it perfectly well. 'This was his seat. He was killed on our second mission. The empty chairs at this table, and the carvings at the places remember those we have lost.'

'Oh,' Zoe murmured, leaning over to trace her fingers over the carving of a young, smiling boy with curly hair riding on a horse. She could nearly feel the wind rushing through the curls.

'Jols, could you perhaps find Zoe something more…suitable to wear?" The commander asked. "Zoe, help yourself to any food on the table. It's only cold meat and bread and wine.'

'Thanks,' Zoe said to Jols as he put the plate and cup in front of her and she reached to pour herself some wine. She wouldn't trust the water here for anything, and, apparently, neither would the knights.

'Here,' Arthur offered Zoe some bread. 'It's quite fresh. Baked just last week.'

Zoe accepted it eagerly, reflecting briefly on how it was so easy for her to think of week-old bread as fresh now. Back at home, week old bread was disgusting. Bread here, though, was baked once every few months and was kept in storage. It grew mouldy and stale and disgusting, but it was a choice between that and starvation. Zoe chose mouldy bread.

'Thanks,' Zoe said around a mouthful of bread.

'It's the least I can do,' Arthur said. 'A poor thanks for your aid to me when I was injured.'

'I didn't do anything to deserve it,' Zoe denied, looking up from the bread at Arthur.

'You healed me.'

'I nearly didn't,' Zoe confessed, tracing Agravaine's young face. 'I was so scared, I…couldn't look at it. There was blood, and…it was your body just bleeding…and I just couldn't.'

Zoe didn't realize her hands were shaking until Arthur grabbed them and squeezed.

'But you did. You came back to me, and then you stayed. Bravery, Zoe, is not the same thing as fearlessness, and your actions were brave, Zoe,' Arthur said, smiling gently at her.

She looked up at Arthur, who nodded encouragingly.

'Next time-if there is a next time-I'll do better. I promise I'll do better.'

'I believe in you,' Arthur said.

Zoe took a mouthful of wine. It was extremely alcoholic, and the flavour was unlike the wine Zoe drank with dinner in 2008. It was a lot rougher, for one thing, and it was also quite sweet.

The knights discussed patrols and woads and bragged about their deeds in the battle, all things that Zoe couldn't stand listening to, so she concentrated instead on her food and tried to ignore Lancelot's boasts.

'Zoe, how is Braewyn?' Arthur asked suddenly.

'I don't know. She's still asleep; she was tired.'

'From what I hear, she was working from the end of the battle till nearly dawn.'

'She was,' Zoe nodded.

'She shouldn't do that anymore. She's getting old, and she needs to take care of herself.'

'Then who takes care of us?' Lancelot asked from Arthur's other side. 'I know you care for her, but she cares for us like you do.'

'And she won't let anyone suffer while she can help them,' Zoe added. 'If that means a sleepless night for her, then so be it.'

'And she is, by far, the best healer we have,' Lancelot finished.

'I know. And I still wish she would take as much care with herself as she does with my men,' Arthur sighed. 'She's important to me.'

'Why?' Zoe asked.

'My mother died when I was very young. After that Braewyn did her best to help me.'

Zoe nodded, and took another mouthful of bread, this time having some cold meat with it. The meat wasn't actually cold-it was closer to room temperature, and, from the taste, it was probably rabbit. A year ago Zoe would have baulked at eating a fluffy bunny. Now, her first thought when she saw one of the wild ones was 'stay away from my garden or I'll eat you'. She smiled at the thought.

'I don't think Braewyn would approve of the clothes you're wearing, though. Where did you get them from?'

'The laundry. I was tired, I couldn't go home, and I didn't want to sleep in my dress-it was covered in blood,' Zoe explained. 'I didn't think anyone would mind.'

'Believe me, nobody minds,' Caradoc called out from his seat halfway around the table.

Zoe looked down, pulled her shirt closed again, and glared at him. 'I'm wearing your trousers.'

'What?'

'They were the only ones anywhere near short enough.'

Kay sniggered, which earned him an evil glare from Caradoc. 'I'm not short.'

'Just…you are,' Kay said, laughing and ducking the bread Caradoc threw at him.

'So whose shirt is it?'

'Tristan's. Well, it was. He said I could keep it,' Zoe said, taking a sip of wine. Wine with breakfast, Zoe thought ruefully, no wonder life expectancy was so low- the knights' livers would probably fail by the time they reached thirty.

Kay and Caradoc looked at her, then each other and broke into nearly identical grins.

'So…Tristan gave you that shirt?'

'Mmhmm,' Zoe hummed in agreement, reaching for a bit more meat.

'Hear that, Dinadan?'

'I heard,' the surly knight replied. 'Lay off until everybody's awake.'

'Zoe, you've seen Tristan?' Lancelot asked, ignoring the bickering knights further around the table.

'I saw him late last night. He needed his arm sewn up,' Zoe replied.

'He must have gone out again,' Arthur murmured. 'Ah, Jols. You found a dress?'

'Found one in Lancelot's chambers,' Jols replied, handing the garment to Zoe.

'This will be too long,' Zoe said, grateful for the clothing but unsure if it would fit her. Standing, she held the dress against herself.

'Zoe, use my office to change, Jols will show you the way. Then finish your breakfast, and Kay can escort you home.'

Zoe nodded, grateful for the legendary man's kindness and allowed herself to be led away to Arthur's office. It was dark, but she could see that the desk was covered in wax tablets, parchment sheets and scrolls and a few small stone tablets, all with Latin writing on them. Zoe was tempted to go over and read them, but in the end, she ignored it and opted instead for struggling out of her clothes. Tristan's shirt came off easy enough, but Caradoc's trousers were a trial to remove.

'Stupid knight with his stupid, skinny legs,' Zoe grumbled as she kicked the trousers off viciously, nodding in satisfaction as she heard them hit the wall.

She pulled on the dress, which was made of finer wool than Zoe was used to, and wriggled until her arms and head were coming out the appropriate holes. She looked down to see a good four inches of material was trailing along the ground all the way around her. Then Zoe started to do the ties at the back up, and discovered that not only was the dress's owner much taller than she was, but she was also much thinner. So once Zoe finished tying it all up, it was really, really tight, particularly in the chest area.

She sighed, tugged at the neckline of the dress again and picked up the trousers and shirt she'd been wearing in one hand, with as much of her trailing skirt as she could and opened the door.

Jols was outside, and offered to take the shirt and trousers. Zoe handed over Caradoc's trousers, but told Jols that the shirt was hers. She got no other reaction from him than a raised eyebrow, and he led her back to the Round Table.

'Zoe, what condition was Tristan in when you saw him?' Lancelot asked as soon as she sat down at the table again. 'I know you're not competent to make medical judgements,' Zoe winced at the reminder of her hesitancy to help Arthur, 'but did he look tired? Was his movement impaired by the injury?'

'He looked the same as normal, and he could move his arm, but I think he was in pain when he did,' Zoe answered, picking up what she promised herself would be her last piece of bread.

'I don't want to have to order him confined to barracks, Lancelot. It never works with Tristan,' Arthur said.

'Try anyway. And if he sneaks out again, chain him to his bed,' Lancelot snarled.

Zoe, busy trying to pretend she wasn't listening, nearly started giggling at the idea of Lancelot chaining Tristan to a bed. _Kinky_, she thought.

'Zoe, did Tristan go to you to be stitched up, or just for the materials to do it himself?' Arthur asked suddenly, turning to her.

'He wanted to do it himself, but I wouldn't let him,' Zoe replied.

Lancelot snorted, and Zoe blushed. 'It was his arm, he wouldn't be able to see, or reach well enough to close it properly. It was that or let him bleed.'

'You seemed to have no problems letting people bleed, Zoe,' Lancelot said.

'Lancelot,' Arthur warned, and the knight sat back in his chair, glaring a little at the girl.

After an awkward pause, Lancelot said 'If he just wanted the paste, he's probably fine.'

Arthur nodded his agreement as Zoe swallowed the last of her bread and stood up, careful of the length of her skirt.

'Thank you for the food, Arthur,' she said. 'I'd like to go home now, though.'

'Of course.' Arthur looked at Kay and beckoned the boisterous knight over. 'Take her home,' Arthur commanded.

Kay nodded and led Zoe (who held her skirt up to avoid stepping on it) to the stables. There were signs that people had been fighting there yesterday, like blood splatters or a few raw cuts to posts, and the horses still seemed rather uneasy. Zoe saw Aleron, and he waved at her from where he was pitching hay.

'Here we go,' Kay said when they reached a stall with a sturdy brown and white horse inside. 'Just give me a moment to saddle her, and you'll be home again.'

Zoe watched while Kay hauled a saddle (it looked quite heavy, but what did she know?) off the rail next to his horse and put it on the mare's back. He fastened buckles, kneed his horse in the stomach for some reason and fiddled around with it until he was satisfied. The horse didn't look too thrilled with the knight, and kept on shifting and tossing her head.

'Hey, girl, calm down. We're just going on a little ride. Hmm?' Kay petted his horse on her nose, talking to her like Zoe would talk to Ripper, her dog, when he was in a particularly bad mood. It seemed to work, because the horse butted its head gently against Kay's chest. Kay kissed its nose, and beckoned to Zoe.

'You ride?' he asked.

Zoe shook her head mutely, and was promptly seized by the waist and put in the saddle. Zoe immediately leant forwards and grabbed the horse's mane. It just didn't feel safe up here. The horse shifted and Zoe whimpered a little. She was really quite high up, and the wood to either side didn't look soft to land on.

'Don't be so scared, Zoe! She's a darling!' Kay cried, gathering the reins and leading the horse out to the yard with Zoe clinging to its mane.

Aleron came over to hold the horse while Kay climbed up behind Zoe and wrapped his arms around her to get the reins from Aleron.

'You all right, Zoe?' Aleron asked, grinning up at her.

'I'm fine. A bit tired, but fine. How about you?' Zoe asked, looking him over for any sign of injury.

'I know better than to get mixed up in all that fighting,' Aleron replied with a wink.

'Little guy just hid up in the hayloft rather than get in the way,' Kay said, his voice sounding a lot older than it had before. 'Smarter than some others.'

Aleron's grin faded, and he nodded to the knight as he kicked the horse's sides to get it moving.

'I'll see you later, Zoe!' Aleron called, and Zoe twisted in the saddle to wave back to him.

Kay was respectful of Zoe's nervousness, and kept the horse to a walk the whole way back to her house. Then he helped her down off his 'darling', leapt back on and kicked her into a gallop, whooping like a hooligan.

Zoe opened the door of her house. It was strangely silent, and smelled slightly weird. Despite the smell, which Zoe identifie as being slightly rotten meat, nothing had changed inside it. During the raid on the fort, it would have been a perfect opportunity to ransack the house. Zoe hadn't expected to find any of her meagre possessions left, let alone completely untouched like this.

Zoe closed the door and tore off the too-tight and too-long dress, pulling on one of her own work dresses. She needed a new one, the blood would never come out of the one she had been wearing last night. Braewyn would need a new one as well, Zoe thought, picking up the dress Jols had given to her. Perhaps she could ask Blanchefleur to re-sew this one to fit Braewyn…

She tried to clean the house a little, by throwing the rotting meat away and putting out fresh hellebore, but kept going to the door to look at the surrounding forests. There were woads in there. Somewhere. They had weapons. They could come here and kill her without any warning. She just didn't feel safe. Or particularly clean. She smelled terrible, she realized. And she had…stuff in her hair. Blood and other things she didn't want to think about. She wanted a bath.

Going to the alcove where Braewyn kept their money, Zoe took out just enough to pay the attendant at the baths. Since she had started working their savings had increased, and Braewyn had told her that she was welcome to take money from the box whenever she wanted, but rarely did. It just didn't feel right, as Braewyn was the one who provided most of the money. Braewyn grew a lot of their vegetables in the garden, and, combined with the fees she got in kind from her healing work, they were well fed. Zoe always got paid in coins, though, so most of her money went straight into the little box in the wall. Braewyn rarely got paid in coins, but when she did it was usually more than Zoe made in a week.

Zoe grabbed some of Braewyn's homemade soap, knowing she wouldn't get anything but oil at the bathhouse and took a clean change of clothes for after her bath. All this she stuffed into a sack made out of on old wheat bag and walked out the door as quickly as she could, darting glances back to the forest in case there were woads around.

She took her time in the baths, ignoring the other women there and scrubbing frantically at her skin until it turned pink from the friction. Then she jumped into the hottest pool and stayed there until she thought she was about to boil. It hurt, but by the time she got out, dried, combed her hair and dressed, she felt clean again.

And, once she was clean, the woods around her house seemed less threatening. They were trees and leaves rather than woads watching for their next opportunity to strike.

Zoe looked for Braewyn, or signs that the old woman had been home, but there were none. Zoe guessed that she must be staying at the fort to look after the wounded soldiers still in the infirmary, so she emptied out the sack she'd carried to the baths and put clean clothes for Braewyn in it.

She didn't want to go back to the fort. What she really wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a week without dreams, but it wouldn't be right until she knew how Braewyn was doing.

Also, her friend could probably do with some of her herbs. She looked around for plants or jars or boxes that would be easy to carry and picked a few up to take to Braewyn. The others were too large, or would have their brittle, dried leaves smashed to pieces in the sack.

The walk to the fort seemed to take forever, with people stopping and asking after the health of friends, or family. Somehow news that she'd been helping the healers last night had gotten around, and everyone wanted to know how the soldiers, particularly the knights, were doing.

Zoe hated to disappoint people, but she hadn't asked the names of soldiers she'd tended to. She told them that Gawain was seriously injured, and had been unconscious at dawn, that Arthur had been wounded, but seemed to be healing well and that the others were fine, they only had scratches.

But the people asking about their loved ones, rather than for general news, kept asking, and Zoe just didn't know. She didn't know the soldiers well enough to reassure them, and, knowing how many people had died, or were seriously wounded, she couldn't say that they were probably fine and just tired.

Finally she reached the fort, but there was a crowd around the gate. It seemed that those people who hadn't pestered Zoe for news had gone straight to the source of it all - the fort. There were Roman soldiers on duty who were stubbornly refusing entry to all civilians, but giving what news they could.

Zoe elbowed and squirmed her way to the front of the crowd, stepping on toes and shoving people out of the way. She tended to get angry when she hadn't gotten enough sleep, but it did make getting to the soldiers and the gates much easier.

'I need to get in. I've got things for Braewyn,' Zoe said to one of the Romans, a medium-sized man with a bandage around his left forearm and mismatched eyes.

'What sort of things?'

'Braewyn hasn't been home-she's covered in blood and she doesn't have any other clothes to change into. Also, I brought some of her herbs; I thought she might need them.'

'Go in,' the man said, gesturing for the other legionnaires to let her pass.

'That easy?' Zoe asked, surprised.

'You helped me last night, and you've got a good excuse to get back in,' the man said, gesturing to his arm.

Zoe looked at him closely, but she couldn't remember treating him. All the faces had blurred together in her mind, but she thought she could remember the wound. A deep graze across the underside of his arm, had needed several stitches and a tight bandage to stop the bleeding.

'Thank you for that, Zoe' the man said, rubbing his arm a little.

'How do you know my name?' Zoe asked, walking between the gap in the soldiers, who closed it immediately after she'd been through.

'I'm Liliana's uncle. Titus.'

'Nice to meet you, and I hope you heal quickly,' Zoe said. 'Thanks for letting me in.'

She ran off into the fort, following the sickeningly familiar corridors to the infirmary. Sure enough, Braewyn was there, looking haggard and frail.

'Zoe? Didn't Arthur send you home?' the old woman asked when she caught sight of the young woman coming through the doors.

'He did, but I went to the baths, and then I thought you might like clean clothes and some of your herbs,' Zoe said, offering the things to Braewyn.

'Thank you, Zoe. That's very thoughtful,' Braewyn said, taking the sack. 'Now get out and go to sleep.'

'Yes ma'am!' Zoe agreed enthusiastically and left the fort, smiling to Titus when she passed him at the gates, avoiding the people desperate for knowledge and hurrying back to her house.

She went to the ditch out the back to go to the toilet, suddenly realizing that if there were woads out there, they'd be watching her pee. She couldn't help herself and she started to laugh as she washed her hands. She probably looked crazy, laughing as she at absolutely nothing at all, but she didn't care. There was nobody there to see her. Not even any woads.

She got out of her dress and hesitated before putting on Tristan's old shirt. It was strangely comforting, but she didn't now how a shirt she associated with a man who had given her death threats could be comforting. She was too tired to puzzle it out, and curled up in the fur-pile instead, and went to sleep.

She remembered waking up a few times, her heart racing and gasping for breath, but never for long enough to really remember it. She guessed she was having nightmares, because she always woke up terrified, with a vague impression of blood and pain before that faded and she fell asleep again.

Gawain was in front of her, all golden hair and bright smile. 'Why are you crying?' he asked, walking forwards to embrace Zoe. 'Don't cry.' Zoe pulled away, pressing her hands to her mouth when Gwain's chest burst apart. She could see his heart. It was beating.

'I'm here for you, what more do you want?' Gawain asked, his teeth tinged red with blood. 'Do you want my heart? I can give it to you.' He reached up with one bloody hand, gripping it tightly and pulling it.

Zoe screamed and sat up just when he pulled it out of his chest, looking around in a panic. She was in a cold sweat and shivering. She looked around desperately, and she sighed in relief when she saw no-one. She threw the furs away and got up, pulling Tristan's shirt off and her dress on.

She walked out of the house to check the position of the sun, and guessed it would be about dinnertime, although she wasn't particularly hungry. Braewyn would be though, Zoe thought, and sluggishly got the ingredients for a vegetable stew together.

It was nearly done when she heard hooves outside. Opening the door, she looked out to see Dinadan and Caradoc on their horses. Caradoc had Braewyn's thin arms wrapped around his middle, and when the knights stopped Dinadan helped the old woman down from Caradoc's horse. Her hair was wet from the baths and she looked as if she was so tired she was nearly falling down.

'Stay out here with the knights, Zoe. I want to change,' Braeywn said as she walked slowly through the door, as if she was five times heavier than she had been this morning.

'There's stew on the fire, it's nearly ready,' Zoe said, closing the door behind the old woman. 'How is Gawain? And Arthur?' Zoe asked eagerly, turning to the knights.

'He's alive. He woke up for a bit today, so Braewyn says he'll probably make it,' Dinadan said with a grin. He was generally pleasant to be around in the evening, he was just a complete and utter bastard in the morning. 'Arthur fainted a bit after noon-Marius says he was pushing himself too hard and has to stay in bed for a day. Lancelot's hovering over him like a mother-hen. Just don't tell him I said that.'

'And everyone else?' Zoe asked.

'We're fine. Lamorak is dead tired, Bedivere's in Arthur's study with Percival, Galahad, Bors and Dagonet were dicing last I saw. Kay's out at the tavern, so that mean's he's fine. Tristan got back and went to his room and I haven't heard a thing.'

'I looked in on him, he's fine,' Caradoc said.

'Oh thank God,' Zoe sighed.

'By the way, Lamorak mentioned something about indecent clothing. That would be the shirt Tristan gave you, yes?' Dinadan asked.

'Probably,' Zoe mumbled, blushing while Caradoc laughed.

'It's nothing to blush about, Zoe, he quite enjoyed it, I think,' the knight said. Dinadan elbowed him.

'Why did he give you his shirt anyway?' Dinadan asked, fending off Caradoc's playful punches.

'I was wearing it, he came in, and I stitched up his arm. Then he left and told me I could keep the shirt because 'it suited me'!' Zoe explained.

For some reason, that only made the knights laugh harder.

'What?'

'It suits you, definitely,' Caradoc said. 'We'll head back now-Tristan brought back a few rabbits for dinner.'

'Goodbye. Thank you for escorting me home,' Braewyn said from the doorway. 'Come in, Zoe. Our food is ready.'

The two women ate and cleaned in silence. When Zoe was collecting the scraps and Braewyn was getting ready for bed, Braewyn started to speak.

'I know you're young, and that's why I'm telling you this. Do not get involved with the knights. They're soldiers, they die. They are slaves, and when they're freed, they will leave. They do not marry, they rarely acknowledge their children, they do not commit to a woman. I don't think any of them, particularly Tristan, would know how to make you happy, Zoe. Do not get involved.'

Zoe looked at Braewyn, completely stunned by her assumptions. 'I'm not involved with them at all! Tristan?' Zoe laughed. 'No, there's nothing. Anyway, my friends have warned me of the same thing. I'm friends with Lucia, Braewyn, I know about the risks of involvement with the knights. And I'm not stupid enough to think I'll be an exception,' Zoe finished sadly.

Braewyn nodded and settled down on the fur. 'Take the scraps outside, then bank the fire, please Zoe. I need to sleep.'

Zoe did as she was asked, warming her hands for a few moments next to the fire before getting into Tristan's shirt once again and curling up back to back with Braewyn in the furs.

She fell asleep thinking about what it would be like if she was special enough to become an exception for Gawain.

xxx

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! I went on holidays for a few days, did something quite stupid and ended up in hospital for blood poisoning. Hospitals suck, by the way, but the people working there are quite nice, and it's a good way to get lots of chocolate ice cream from your parents. I was pretty incapacitated and drugged up to my gills for a while. Thanks for all the reviews, and all the story favourites during that time, even if I didn't respond to you, it really made me want to get the hell out of hospital.

As usual, any reviews are welcome, particularly concrit. You guys rock, by the way. And, as usual, thank you to my beta, Homeric, whose awesome contributions are, well…awesome.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I don't even pretend to own these guys.


	20. Healing

**20. Healing**

The weeks after the attack were busy. The men were busy strengthening the fortifications and repairing whatever parts of the fort were damaged. Braewyn walked to the fort every day with Zoe, Zoe to clean blood off clothes, to mend tears, or to help Blanchefleur and Evelyn make new clothes for Roman soldiers or knights, Braewyn to watch Gawain, make sure his wound hadn't festered, and that it hadn't torn, that he wasn't stressing himself too much for his body to heal. Once she had finished with Gawain, she would go and help with the other injured men before leaving to do what she normally did during the day: tend to her herb patch and, occasionally, care for whatever sick or injured the village had.

Zoe would sit in the laundry, tell the girls that Gawain was doing better every day, but that he wasn't out of danger yet, and deny any involvement between her and Tristan. She was grateful for the chances she got to get out of the laundry, because she was getting sick of all the questions the girls threw at her about her supposed relationship with Tristan. Evelyn and Blanchefleur would pester her for details-when their love had started, how Tristan acted as a lover and so many things Zoe didn't know. Lucia sat there with a disapproving look on her face that said she was disappointed Zoe was sleeping with a knight and Liliana was constantly trying to get Zoe to stop these rumours. Which would be great, except Liliana's preferred method to stop the rumours was for Zoe to announce she was in love with Gawain.

It made Zoe's job delivering the clothes up to the knight's quarters really embarrassing. Lancelot kept shooting her these odd looks, Bors, when he was there, asked her how many children she would give Tristan, Kay winked conspiratorially every time she went anywhere near Tristan's room and Galahad had pulled her aside anxiously one day and asked her if the rumours were _true_, and to tell her that if they were she should be _very_ careful of Tristan's temper and that he hoped she could make him _relax_ a little.

And that had been awkward, because as Zoe was leaving Galahad's room, blushing and stuttering denials there was a girl, Iona, going in to Gawain's room and she had heard everything. She was the one who had been dancing with Gawain at Yule, and she was much prettier than Zoe was. For one thing, she was slender, which Zoe was not, and she always smelled like fresh bread rather than harsh soap and sweat. Zoe heard from Evelyn that Iona had been seeing Gawain almost every day, but nobody knew if the two were just courting, or if they were lovers, or if they were just having sex.

But it said quite a bit that the knights allowed her to remain alone in the room while Gawain was as weak as a kitten and virtually defenceless. He still wasn't out of danger; his wound could still fester, or the stitches could tear and he wasn't strong enough to sit up for more than ten minutes at a time.

There were two people the knights allowed in to see Gawain without one of them watching over their comrade. Braewyn was one. Iona was the other.

As the rumours about Zoe and Tristan grew boring for the gossips when neither Zoe nor Tristan acted in a way that could confirm them, the whispers died down. People still asked if Gawain was well yet, but there were more important things to do than gossip, after all. Bellona didn't work in the laundry for a few days, and when Zoe asked after her Liliana said that she was helping prepare a body for burial. She didn't mention it again, and neither did the others. They didn't mention the fresh graves that they could see outside the walls of the fort either. They just did what had to be done to keep life normal. This, unsurprisingly for them, meant clothes.

The work of cleaning, mending or making new clothes was both mind-numbingly boring and physically tiring; Zoe came home every day with sore fingers, an aching back and slightly blurry vision, as her eyes struggled to concentrate on tiny stitches. She always had to struggle to concentrate; even Blanchefleur had noticed she'd been distracted and vague.

'Anybody would think it was _your_ lover wounded almost to death,' Lucia snarled after discovering Zoe's mangled stitching for the third time that day. 'Sit in a corner and try not to get in anyone's way.'

Zoe had never been more grateful to Braewyn for doing all the housekeeping-not only did the old woman do it, but she did it to a standard Zoe was comfortable with, and managed to keep the house smelling nice and almost completely vermin-free. Zoe sure as hell couldn't concentrate on anything, because Braewyn would never say Gawain was out of danger, and the uncertainty ate away at her.

Every day for the month after the attack, Zoe would come home tired and achy, which meant she was bad-tempered. Braewyn would be outside singing lilting Celtic lullabies to herself in her native tongue as she prepared the garden behind their house for the planting season, planted, and tended to the seedlings as the weeks passed. Zoe would shout hello to her as she banged the iron pot around using the excuse that she was cooking dinner. Winter was over, but it was still too early to have anything new harvested, which meant that vegetables and grain were starting to become scarce, and more and more Zoe found herself eating turnips, stringy meat and month-old bread.

Despite being tired and cranky, Zoe rarely slept. For the month and a half after the attack, while the trees were growing leaves and Braewyn's herb garden was sprouting, Zoe woke up every night, sometimes screaming, sometimes with her heart pounding and a cold sweat all over her. Nightmares about a bloodied hand reaching out to her, a gangrenous wound on a man's leg miraculously healing and one on her own leg opening up. Braewyn tried everything to get Zoe to sleep, from sleeping potions, which made the nightmares worse, to lullabies, which sent Zoe to sleep, but couldn't keep her asleep.

'Zoe, you look exhausted,' Blanchefleur remarked one day, about seven weeks after the Woads had come to the Roman fort. She and Zoe had been getting ready to leave the laundry for the day when Blanchefleur had stopped chattering and really _looked_ at Zoe.

Zoe, having not seen a mirror in all the time she'd been in Roman Britain, couldn't help but agree. 'I definitely feel it,' Zoe said, wrapping her cloak more tightly about her. She knew she probably had big bags under her eyes; her hair was sticking out of its shoddy braid and her dress was wrinkled from the hours of sitting and sewing.

'Have you _slept_ at all?' Blanchefleur asked, grabbing Zoe's arm and leading her from the laundry.

'I can't,' Zoe admitted. 'It's just…I can't forget it.'

'Forget what?' Blanchefleur asked, tugging Zoe out of the Sarmatian building. 'Forget the raid? Zoe, it's not exactly unusual.'

The two girls dodged around a group of Romans heading towards their own building and ducked out the gate before Zoe started to explain.

'Where I come from…nothing like that ever happens,' she said, looking up into the spring sky. 'I'd never seen a dead person, much less _seen_ one die. There's war, but it's far away and…' _Gawain_, Zoe thought. _He could still die_.

Blanchefleur sighed and pulled Zoe into a hug. 'Just remember that that's not all we've got here. This place isn't all about death, Zoe. You've got to focus on life, too. Go play with Drostan or that Crispin brat, go talk to some of the other girls or that horse man you seem to like. Dance, drink, walk, or go look at the flowers. Don't just look at the blood.'

'Well that was almost profound,' Zoe teased half-heartedly, and Blanchefleur squeezed her once again before turning to head towards her own house.

Even though she'd teased Blanchefleur about it, what she said struck a chord inside Zoe. She couldn't spend her time worrying about Gawain, or being traumatized by the attack on the fort. Which was pathetic, since nothing had really happened to _her_, and everybody she cared about were still alive (for the moment at least), so she really needed to just _stop thinking about it_.

It wasn't that easy, of course. It never was. And two days after the talk with Blanchefleur, Lucia threw her out of the laundry in absolute disgust at her absentmindedness and general uselessness.

'You're _worse_ than useless. You're…you're…_pathetic_!' Lucia said as she shoved Zoe out of the laundry.

Zoe was trudging out of the building the knights lived in when Kay called her name.

'You look…depressed,' he said, somewhat tactfully, as he fell into steph beside her. 'Tristan not been paying you enough attention?'

Zoe hit his stomach as hard as she could. He didn't even flinch.

'I know, I know, there's noting really going on. Braewyn asked us to leave you alone about it-she said something about you being really sensitive about it. Hey…it's not time for you to leave yet, why are you leaving?' The knight had too much energy for someone as sweaty as he was. It was barely even spring and Kay was only wearing a thin shirt Zoe recognized as one of his favourites from the number of times she'd washed it and a new pair of trousers. The shirt was plastered to his chest and back and his curly hair was slicked to his skull with sweat.

'How do you even _know_ what time I'm supposed to leave?' Zoe asked. 'And please, stay away, you smell bad.'

'It's barely past noon! Is something wrong?' Kay asked, suddenly concerned for her and crowding even closer trying to hug her.

'Smell bad,' Zoe choked, trying not to breathe in.

'Oh…sorry,' Kay said, sheepishly moving away a little. 'But if something's wrong, do you want me to go get one of the other laundry girls? Or Braewyn? I could go get Braewyn for you.' He seemed eager to help, kind of like a puppy, but also like a man afraid he'd suddenly have a crying girl on his hands.

'I just need to…it sounds stupid, but I just need to forget everything bad for a little while,' Zoe said. 'I'll be fine.'

'…have you tried ale?'

Zoe glared at the knight, who grinned, before putting a sober expression on his face.

'Fine, I'll give you a suggestion, but if you ever tell anyone it was my idea I'll deny it,' Kay whispered, leaning closer, then moving back when he saw Zoe scrunch up her nose in disgust at his body odour. 'Go play with some kids. Van's got heaps, _and_ she's got her hands full with Four being sick and all.'

'You play with babies?' Zoe asked, trying to picture Kay, with his irresponsible attitude and scarred face making nice with children.

'I'm very good with children,' Kay defended himself indignantly. 'And I sing to them. I'm not good at it like Caradoc, but I don't make them cry.'

'I might just go play with kids then. You don't think Vanora would mind?' Zoe asked, somewhat nervously. The older woman made her feel fragile and timid. There was just something about Vanora that made her seem eight feet tall and more frightening than any of the knights. Except Tristan. Or Dinadan in the morning.

'She won't. I'll even walk you there myself so she knows you're not trying to steal the babes,' Kay offered. He held out an arm for Zoe to take, but then he must have caught a whiff of his own smell because his face screwed up and he dropped his arm. 'Yeah, I smell,' Kay mumbled. 'I'll go change after I show to to Van's.'

The village wasn't particularly large, so it didn't take long for Zoe and Kay to reach the windy excuse for a street that Vanora lived on. The Romans had paved the road to the fort, but the village outside it had sprung up with little to no organization, which meant that the streets weren't straight.

'You can always tell which house is Vanora's,' Kay said cheerily, cocking his head at a particularly shrill bawl from a young child. 'Just listen for the screaming.'

'That makes it sound so sinister,' Zoe objected as they reached the house. Kay was right, though. The sound of a baby's screams and a small child's wails filled the street, cutting over even the noise from the nearby market.

Zoe, with a bit of encouragement from Kay, knocked on Vanora's door. From inside the house, Zoe could hear Vanora scream at her children to 'shut up or eat rats' before the door was wrenched open.

'This is _really_ not a good time,' Vanora hissed. Her hair was, like Zoe's, tide up in a messy braid at the back of her head. Unlike Zoe's, her hair was flecked with vomit, and so was her dress. 'Kay.'

'Vanora.'

'So, what was it you were after?' Vanora asked the knight. 'Is it Bors again? Did the great lump hurt himself?'

'No, I don't want anything. Zoe here, though, Zoe has a favour to ask you. I'm just here to reassure you she's not insane and now I'll leave,' Kay babbled. He was almost gone before he'd finished speaking.

Shaking her head and smiling slightly at Kay's behaviour, Vanora turned to Zoe with suspicion plain on her face. 'Well, what do you want?'

'Um…I was hoping…would you mind if I took your children with me for an afternoon? Just to play, I promise. Nothing bad. At all. Would you mind?' Zoe asked hurriedly.

Vanora's eyebrows rose incredulously as another piercing wail came from inside. Vanora turned and hissed something at her children. It did nothing to stop the wailing, but Zoe could hear child-like shushing noises coming from inside the house.

'That would be wonderful. No idea why you'd be mad enough to want them, but Four's spitting up and I want to watch him in case I need to fetch Braewyn. Take them away, on you head be any harm that comes to them,' Vanora told Zoe sternly.

Vanora yelled at her children to get out of her house and go with 'the nice lady who is going to get you all out of my hair'. The children all looked at Zoe as if she was their saviour and hurried outside.

Zoe introduced herself to them while Vanora went to get Drostan. The baby was still sniffling when Vanora handed him over to Zoe.

'Remember, they get hurt, so do you,' Vanora reminded her.

Zoe nodded eagerly, and, holding Drostan in her arms, she took Vanora's children out of the village. She didn't feel comfortable calling them Gilly, Two, Three, Four and Five, so she asked Gilly, who was the oldest by a year and a half, what his siblings were called.

'I'm Gilly. Me da says it's cos I'm special. That's Aidilh, but everyone calls her Two. That's Three, her name's Epona. Which is funny cos she's scared of horses. Four's called Ban, after Da's friend, but Da just calls him Four. And this is Drostan-he's Five,' Gilly explained.

'Does it bother you? Being Two or Three?' Zoe asked the two girls.

Aidilh, Two, shook her head. 'It's like Ma calling me Addie. Da never gets us mixed up like Auntie Tam does, and he's here half as often.'

'I don't like my name,' Epona said with the absolute certainty only a four year old can muster. 'I like being Three! My bruvver's Four, and he's the same age as me.' She held up four pudgy little fingers proudly.

'She means they're twins, like Ma and Aunt Tam,' Gilly explained, taking Three's hand and tugging her along faster.

'Come on! We don't have all day!' Aidilh said, running ahead of her brother.

Zoe watched the three of them play in the water; Gilly mostly tormenting Three while Aidilh collected whatever budding flowers she could find. They were so happy. Even Three, who was shrieking war cries such as 'I hate you poopypants!' and 'I'll tell Ma!' and chasing after her big brother with a stick, didn't look like a child who had lived through woad attacks and having a Sarmatian knight as a father.

When Zoe thought about it, they would have seen Bors come back from missions covered in blood and gore, or with wounds of his own. And they would have had 'uncles' die before, because Zoe knew that Bors had lost good friends and comrades in Britain.

And compared to the kids, and to the knights, she had no right to nightmares.

'Well if they can forget it all, baby boy, I can too,' Zoe said to Drostan, rocking him in her arms. The baby smiled, made some sort of happy gurgling nose and then drooled all over his chin.

Zoe didn't stay too much longer; Three was getting tired, Aidilh was only halfheartedly chasing Gilly around with a chain of early-blooming flowers and Gilly looked bored with the waterfall rather than enthusiastic. Drostan was getting fidgety, and as Zoe shifted the baby began to whine.

'He's hungry,' Gilly said. 'Ma said to bring us back when he gets hungry.'

'Are you ready to go?' Zoe asked.

Gilly nodded and waved for his sisters to go ahead. Aidilh strung the chain of flowers she'd made around Three's neck, took her hand and started leading her younger sister home. Zoe handed Drostan to Gilly for a moment while she stood up, and the baby started bawling.

'He wants his Ma,' Gilly explained, holding the baby as far away from himself as his small arms could manage. 'He gives me an awful headache when he cries like this. Not as bad as Three, but Ma got his name right.'

'The noisy one?' Zoe scooped the crying infant out of Gilly's arms and rocked him in her own. It didn't do any good. 'At the moment, I'd agree with that. Come on, let's get you lot home.'

Drostan quieted a little on the walk home, but he kept grabbing at Zoe's chest as if he expected her to transform into Vanora and feed him. Walking back to Vanora's house, with most of Vanora's children, got Zoe a few odd looks, but she ignored them and listened to Aidilh explain to Gilly why their friend Leta thought he was smelly, trying not to laugh at the reasons Aidilh was giving her older brother.

She thought that perhaps the reason Leta thought Gilly was smelly was because he didn't bathe, but according to Aidilh it had something to do with him being a boy.

'Vanora, love, they're back!' Bors yelled when Zoe knoced on the door. 'Gilly, my boy! Two,' Bors greeted his children, ruffling Gilly's hair and giving Aidilh a loud kiss on the cheek. He took his youngest son from Zoe, and kissed him, too, although Drostan howled where Aidilh had giggled.

'I think he's hungry,' Zoe said. 'Vanora, thank you for letting me have them today.'

'I have no idea why you wanted them,' Vanora said as she pulled her dress down to feed Drostan, 'but you're welcome to them any time. It was quite a relief.'

'What did you want with 'em anyway?' Bors asked, grabbing Three and lifting her as high above his head as the low roof of the house permitted.

Zoe looked back at the knight, at his family, and shrugged. 'I just wanted to forget, for a while.'

'Ale's better for that, missy.'

'But it won't leave her with a nasty headache, or me with vomit to clean up. Thank you, Zoe,' Vanora said, turning her attention to the infant at her breast.

'You don't need walking home, do you?' Bors asked, jiggling Three in his arms.

'No, thank you, it's not far,' Zoe replied, waving to the children.

They waved back, but were busy telling their father all about their day before Zoe had even gotten out of the door.

When Zoe made it home it was completely dark. The little hut Zoe now thought of as home had a fire going, lighting the windows with flickering orange, and Zoe could smell woodsmoke as she approached.

'I thought you might like to know, I'm absolutely certain Gawain is going to live. I told Arthur this morning,' Braewyn said to Zoe as she walked through the door, handing her a slice of bread and pointing to the fire, where some meat and turnips where keeping warm.

'Oh thank God,' Zoe sighed, sitting down within arm's reach of the fire.

'His wound is healing cleanly, without festering. He'll have a scar for the rest of his life, though,' Braewyn said, standing up wearily.

'Well at least he'll have a rest of his life,' Zoe muttered around a mouthful of turnip. 'You know, I'm really sick of these.'

Braewyn smiled, yawned, and walked over to the mat of furs where she and Zoe slept. 'Bank the fire before going to bed, will you please?'

Zoe murmured her assent, chewing on the stringy meat. She knew that food would be scarcer and scarcer until around the middle of summer, when the first proper harvests would come in.

When Zoe heard Braewyn's light snores she smiled. Everyone she loved here was safe. Braewyn was resting peacefully not two meters away from her, Gawain would recover from his wound, Blanchefleur, Liliana, Lucia and Evelyn were all at home sleeping.

She didn't have nightmares that night.

The next day, Zoe was still tired. But she put that down to not sleeping for the previous six weeks. She was, for the first time in a while, looking forward to seeing her friends. Now that she wasn't looking like the walking dead, she wouldn't have to put up with their tiptoeing around her. And, finally, she could tell them some good news.

'Oh that's a relief,' Evelyn sighed when she heard. Blanchefleur smiled widely and hugged Zoe tightly.

'Well at least we won't have mended his clothes for nothing,' was all Lucia would say about it, but Zoe knew Lucia well enough to know that she was as happy as the others about it.

'Don't you think Tristan will be jealous?' Blanchefleur asked suddenly.

'What? Jealous that Gawain's going to live?' Zoe asked, confused by the apparent change of subject.

'No, silly. Jealous that you're paying to much attention to another knight,' Blanchefleur explained. 'I mean, everyone's been talking about the two of you, and I know you say there's nothing to it, but really, I don't know why we didn't see it ages ago.'

'There's _nothing_ to those rumours, Blanchefleur,' Evelyn insisted. 'Zoe doesn't like Tristan like that, I can tell.'

'But he gave her his _shirt_,' Blanchefleur whined. 'That's got to mean something, right?'

'Yeah, that he liked to look down it when it was on me,' Zoe grumbled. 'Blanchefleur, men _like_ to look at breasts. It's part of being a man; if there are breasts, they will be appreciated. It doesn't mean true love and lots of babies and a happily ever after, or even that he particularly likes me as a person and not as a walking pair of breasts. And I'm not paying a lot of attention to Gawain, I'm just glad that he's going to recover.'

'If you say so,' Blanchefleur said, looking at Zoe skeptically.

'It's a good thing that you aren't. Iona would get jealous. I've heard from my neighbour that Iona turned down a perfectly good man, Taariq, he tanner, because there was somebody else. And she's been spending _hours_ with Gawain, you know,' Evely babbled.

'Yes, but has she been spending the night hours with him?' Blanchefleur asked.

'Even if she had, I doubt he'd be…_up_…for much,' Lucia murmured. 'What with his injury and all.'

Blanchefleur and Evelyn laughed and kept speculating about Iona and Gawain's relationship. Liliana kept darting concerned glances to Zoe, who tried to stay out of the conversation as much as possible. Thinking about Gawain with a woman not herself was not something she wanted to do.

Finally, the day ended, and as Zoe was walking towards the Church, Liliana caught up with her and wrapped her up in a hug.

'I know you like Gawain, and I know it's got to hurt hearing this, but I want you to know that I'll listen when you need me to.'

Zoe sniffed hard to stop herself from crying and hugged Liliana back tightly.

'Do you really think Iona's...' Zoe trailed off, not wanting to finish that question.

'I've never seen Gawain more serious about a girl,' Liliana answered honestly. 'Forget him, Zoe. Quite apart from that, he's a _knight_. You should _never_ be serious about a knight.'

Zoe didn't reply, but went to spend some time in the Church. She still found it calming. There was something about the smell of incense and the familiar figures in the paintings that made her feel connected to where she came from and safe, at the same time.

She knew she didn't belong here, that this time wasn't her home, and that it was so hard to fit in and deal with what these people thought was common. Like, for instance, primitive medical care. But she also knew that there was no technology here capable of explaining her predicament. And she knew that there was nothing she could do to get home.

She didn't spend too long in there, and just as it was getting dark she decided to leave.

'Zoe!' a man called from inside the Church.

She turned around to see Arthur standing behind her. She hadn't noticed him while she'd been sitting inside the Church, which wasn't really surprising. She had been concentrated on herself, and Arthur could be amazingly unobtrusive when he wanted to avoid attention.

'Sir.'

'It's getting dark, let me walk you home,' Arthur offered.

Zoe accepted, if only because there was no way she could refuse. Arthur, she knew, thought it important to protect those who could not protect themselves, even if it was only from walking home alone.

There was silence on the way back to Braewyn's house, mostly because Arthur appeared rather deep in thought and Zoe didn't know what to say. Arthur was…not like his knights. There was something special about him, Zoe knew, something that set him above and apart. Something that would be remembered and romanticized long after he died.

_But he still bleeds like everyone else_, Zoe thought, remembering how pale and weak he had seemed the night of the Woad attack when Zoe had had to stitch him up.

It didn't take long to walk to Braewyn's house. It wasn't even completely dark by the time the two arrived at the door.

Zoe expected Arthur to leave after he saw her safely home, so she was surprised when the man opened the door for her and followed her inside.

'Arthur? Good to see you, dear boy,' Braewyn exclaimed, leaving the fire's warmth with outstretched arms.

Arthur embraced Braewyn warmly. 'I hadn't meant to bother you until tomorrow, but I saw Zoe in the church and asked if I could walk her home.'

'That sounds ominous, Arthur. Zoe-go eat. Turnips again.'

'Oh joy,' Zoe murmured, and received a playful smack from the old lady for her sarcasm.

'Arthur, come in, sit down,' Braewyn shooed Arthur to the furs beside the fire and eased herself down beside him.

'I have something to ask of you, Braewyn,' Arthur began. 'I am aware of the trouble it will cause you, but I hope you will consider it, at least. My men are being forced to rely on a healer whose first priority is Roman soldiers, not Sarmatian conscripts. And yet, they are injured more frequently than even the most active of legionaries. I want a healer who can be there for us all the time. A healer who would be waiting for us when we return from our missions, who will see to us as her first priority after battles.'

Zoe, chewing rather unhappily on turnips, could see the sense in Arthur's words, and had caught on to his meaning. He wanted Braewyn to be the healer for the Sarmatian knights.

'I won't move from my house, Arthur,' Braewyn warned him, leaning in close to her fire. 'I'm too old to deal with your knights all day every day.'

'I wouldn't ask you to, but I've got another request.' Arthur

'Oh?'

'I would like you to take an apprentice. Or perhaps two.'

'Why?' Braewyn asked.

Zoe listened attentively as she cleaned her meal.

'I need to look out for the future of my men, and, as much as I will grieve your passing, I need to look out for the world after it. I cannot prevent time from taking you from me, but I am hoping you can help me save my men by passing on your knowledge.'

There was no sound in the one-roomed house except for their breathing and the crackling of the fire.

'You know I have not wanted an apprentice, Arthur,' Braewyn murmured.

'And I will still ask you to take one.' Arthur's voice was implacable.

'Zoe,' Braewyn called suddenly. 'Please stop sulking and come sit by the fire. I'm sure you've heard everything that we've said.'

'I have,' Zoe agreed, sitting down next to Braewyn and the warmth of the fire. The three sat in silence for a while, Zoe uncomfortably, Braewyn deep in thought, and Arthur watching the older woman intently.

'Arthur-it was to have been my daughter's work. And I'm not sure I have long enough to teach all that I know,' Braewyn eventually said. 'I'm old, Arthur.'

'I know,' the man said, reaching over to take Braewyn's hand. 'Think on it.' Arthur squeezed Braewyn's hand and kissed the old woman's brow. 'Goodnight.'

Zoe and Braewyn worked silently to clean up after their dinner and to get ready for bed. The conversation with Arthur had been a sobering one for the two women.

'Braewyn…' Zoe began as she banked the coals for the night, blinking rapidly as some smoke got into her eyes.

'I'm thinking about it, Zoe,' the old woman said, sounding older than she ever had.

'I was going to ask…what will happen to me when you…if you…' Zoe trailed off, and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

'When I die? You remember me and bury me with honour. When I die you can have the house, the gardens. You can sell them and move away, you can marry so you can keep living here. You grieve and then go on living.' Braewyn said, pulling Zoe away from the fire so that she could hug her.

'I don't want you to die,' Zoe whispered into Braewyn's frail shoulder.

'Everyone dies, Zoe. It's a matter of how. Now hush, and don't worry. I'm not about to die during the night.'

Despite Braewyn's assurances, Zoe stayed awake long after Braewyn did, listening to her snoring softly during the night.

xxx

A/N: Wow, I'm a bad author. Lost inspiration for the better part of a year, sorry guys. Still, I logged on for the first time in a year a little while ago and got bombarded with reviews and favourites and alerts, so I went back and re-found the drive to write. So…yay? I'll try to have the next chapter up in less than a year.

Thanks for everyone who favourited this in my…let's call it an absence. Thanks to everyone who wrote a review, who put this story on their alerts. Thanks to people who reviewed twice trying to poke me to get stuff done. You're fantastic.

Also, thanks to my ninja beta. You're amazing.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own them, don't sue me.


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